It's a Sin
by INeedCoffeeArghhh
Summary: Caught in a moment of uncontrollable desire, Gary Harrison makes an impulsive decision, set to bring guilt and confusion, whilst forever changing the lives of four very messed up boys, in love. (Gary/Christophe/Gregory/Stan)
1. It's a Sin

_A/N: Gary x Christophe.__ One is cynical, moody and completely anti-God. The other is so optimistic, happy and Mormon. No stories! I felt the need to write something. I am in no way denouncing Gregstophe; they are still one of my absolute favourite pairings, and without Gregory I'd have never thought of this._

_COMPLETELY CRACK PAIRING!_

_Warning: **Smut**, swearing and violence... and blood fetishes._

* * *

_-At school they taught me how to be, so pure in thought and word and deed, they didn't quite succeed. For everything I long to do, no matter when or where or who, has one thing in common, too, it's a sin- -Pet Shop Boys-_

* * *

The first time Christophe met Gary, he was nine years old, and like always, he was doing something he really shouldn't have been doing.

Christophe grunted as he picked up the heavy metal box and struggled to drop it into the deep hole. It was nearly all over; all he had to do now was toss soil back over the top. Thankfully filling in a hole never took as long as making one. His dirty hands, with earth trapped forever under the fingernails, grabbed the splintered handle of his well used shovel. His eyes closed as he rhythmically slid the tool under the loose soil, lifted it up and then dropped it into the pit he'd made. He could hear the clanging against the metal at first, and then slowly the sound muffled. He was tired, but content in the knowledge he could nearly go home and rest.

From close in front of him, came an incredibly loud and chipper voice, each word it spoke rung through Christophe's head like a church bell on an early Sunday morning.

"Hey there! You look tired, could you use some help?" asked the boy, a wide, helpful smile on his face.

Christophe opened his eyes and scowled at the blond boy. "No, fuck off," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that," chimed the boy, his smile never wavering at Christophe's scowl. He moved closer, extending his arm for a handshake. "My name is Gary, I attend South Park Elementary. What's your name?"

Christophe stared down at the hand, and then up at Gary. He was not going to shake the hand; all he wanted to do was flatten the earth again. That was his mission. "I am ze mole, and I told you to fuck off."

Gary laughed. "That's a really interesting name, but surely it can't be your real name?"

Christophe pulled a cigarette out of his top pocket and sighed as he lit it up. "Non, zat ees not my real name, but people don't call me my real name, and I don't see why I should tell a beetch like you eet."

"Oh well I'm certainly not forcing you to tell me!"

"Good zen." Christophe banged the ground with his shovel one last time and then nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette. The blond kid still hadn't left him alone; his mind ran over the name. Gary... Gary Harrison was it? Was it the same kid from that Mormon family, with their stupid ideas, that had moved into town? "Hey, ees your surname 'Arrison?" he asked, glaring at Gary.

Gary smiled, he seemed unbothered that smoke was drifting into his face and that everything in the French sounding boy's attitude was negative. "It sure is! Have you heard of me? All good I hope!" He laughed, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

Christophe smirked. "Well my name is Christophe DeLorne, Gary 'Arrison. And I think God is a cock-sucking asshole." Christophe threw his cigarette down on the soil and stepped on it, grinding it under his foot. "I will be going now." He turned around and walked away.

"Goodbye then, Christophe," called Gary, after him.

Christophe just carried on walking, thinking about how thankful he was that he and the Mormon went to different schools.

Gary and Christophe, of course, didn't stay in different schools forever. They both lived in the Park County area, and when they reached high school, their paths inevitably crossed again.

Completely ignoring the other person, they went about their years never once talking. They had remembered each other though, both for very different reasons.

Christophe frowned down on the blond. Gary was the boy who had seen him filling in _that_ hole, and even before the Mormon arrived, that day would be etched in his memory. He'd observed Gary over the years, after hearing his name in class, and connecting it with the blond optimist he'd met that day. It shouldn't have been possible for someone to be so pure, and so happy about it.

Gary had stayed friends with Stan Marsh, and had even made friends with the other boys, who when they'd matured, saw what a great guy he was. He always listened extra hard when his friends mentioned the mercenary, because Christophe had always lingered at the back of his mind as the mysterious, cynical French boy. The rumours he'd heard over the years only concluded his theory that Christophe was probably a person he should avoid. There was something thrilling about Christophe though; he was the one bad thing Gary couldn't get enough of.

Gary's continuing obsession with the French boy, led him to follow him one inevitable day, when they were both seventeen. It was the first time he'd done anything like that. It was unbelievable that he even did it. What stopped all sense of reasoning in Gary's brain was that he saw the shovel. He hardly ever saw the shovel. Christophe had stopped carrying it around everywhere after elementary school, only taking it out of his room, (for he didn't trust the shed) when he actually needed to use it.

Gary's curiosity got the better of him.

His trailing led him to the same clearing in the forest where he'd met Christophe all those years previous. Whether it was a coincidence, fate, or something else, Gary would never know. All he knew was that one moment he was crouched behind a tree, and the next moment he was down on the ground, pain from shock pulsing through his body, as large dirty hands pushed on his shoulders.

"Do you think I didn't know zat you were following me here," growled Christophe as he slammed Gary's head down, "it ees my job to know zees things." His angry dark green eyes sent fear through Gary's body, as he lay submissive beneath.

"P-please don't hurt me," stuttered Gary, as his bright blue eyes opened wide in alarm.

"Zen tell me why you were following me!" snapped Christophe, but as he spoke, he loosened his grip on the boy's frame.

"You had the shovel! The shovel from all those years ago, I remember it so well and I wanted to see where you were going with it. I'm sorry for following you; I know it was terrible of me."

Christophe laughed maliciously. "You really think following people is terrible? Zen you must think I'm a monster." He let go of the blond boy and stood up. He seemed to deliberate something for a second, before offering a hand to Gary.

Gary stared into Christophe's eyes and took the hand, as Christophe helped him up. "No, I don't think you're a monster," he said, smiling faintly, "I don't think anyone's a monster."

Christophe just shook his head. "I see you're still so fucking optimistic, blondie. You really shouldn't be. Ze world ees a terrible place, because God wants people to suffer."

Completely ignoring the comment about God, which at that moment didn't bother him, Gary stared in shock at Christophe. "You remember me from all these years ago? You remember that I saw you here?"

"Yes, I remember you. You're so annoyingly chipper eet's hard not to." Christophe eyed Gary cautiously. "Do you remember what I was doing zat day?"

"Sure, you were filling in a hole. I assume you were burying something. Is that why you're here today? Are you going to dig it up?" Excitement filled his voice.

Christophe growled. There was no use in denying it, he had the feeling Gary wasn't going anywhere. "Oui." He scratched at his neck. "But I 'av a problem, I cannot remember where in zis area I buried eet. I usually mark ze tree nearest eet, but you came along, and I forgot." He scowled at Gary. "You don't even know 'ow much trouble you've caused me."

Gary's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Christophe, I would never want to cause you trouble. I'm sure if we look hard enough, we'll find it."

"Non, zis ees where you are mistaken, zere ees no 'we'. You are leaving."

Gary panicked and shoved his hands in his pockets. He breathed out slowly. "What if I told you I remember where the box is hidden?" A photographic memory was a very useful thing to have, but even without such help, Gary would have remembered everything about that day.

Christophe grabbed the blond's arms and stared into the stunned eyes. "Zen you must tell me."

Gary felt his breathing rate increase, and an unusual and definitely unwanted feeling run over him, as he felt Christophe's surprisingly warm hands and hot breath. "Only if you let me stay," he whispered.

Christophe growled, but gave in. "Fine zen. You tell me where eet ees and you stay."

Gary pointed a clammy hand towards a tree to the right of them. "It's under there."

The two boys dug for what felt like a long time. They said nothing as Christophe worked. Gary observed how expert Christophe was at digging, the now strong and toned muscles in his arms allowing the blade of the shovel to cut effortlessly through the ground. He was mesmerised as he watched the steady rhythm. The occasional grunts Christophe made when he hit a hard rock, or a tree root, sent a fluttering through Gary's stomach. He was scared and upset by this, but couldn't tear himself away from watching.

Eventually they found the metal box.

Christophe cried out in elation. "Oh thank ze beetch Lord I've found eet!"

Gary frowned. "Our Lord isn't a _bitch_ Christophe."

Christophe threw the box over the side of the hole and pulled himself out. "He's not my Lord. You can worship ze faggot, but I don't."

"Don't call him that!" Gary had heard God being offended so many times over the years, he'd always ignored it, but hearing the hatred in Christophe's voice made him uncharacteristically angry.

Christophe smirked, in all the years he'd watched, Gary had never had this kind of reaction. "You want me to stop speaking ze truth? Even zough eet's a sin to lie."

"It's worse to denounce God! Besides you're not speaking the truth." Gary cast his head down, as his anger subsided and guilt replaced it. "But I don't want to argue with you." The last words were said with softness and regret, plus an edge of something else.

Christophe noticed the slight blush on Gary's face. "So what do you want to do?" he asked, moving closer. "Would you like to know what's inside my box?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

Christophe raised an eyebrow, and placed the box on the floor by his feet. "I'll show you eef you convince me." His eyes blazed as a fatal grin stretched across his mouth.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed Gary's waist and forcefully pulled the blond towards him, pressing their bodies and crushing their lips together. Gary let out a muffled squeal in shock, with a bright red face and shaking hands he tried to push away. He managed to fleetingly free his mouth from the wet and powerful attack. "C-Christophe, n-no, what are you doing?" he gasped, as confusion flooded his head.

The French boy's eyes glistened knowingly. "I'm just doing what zat blush on your face and zat look in your eye, when you think I'm not watching, tells me you want me to do."

Gary gasped, he couldn't deny his feelings for Christophe, but they were meant to be locked away, kept somewhere they'd never be discovered, not worn plainly across his face. He'd failed to hide them from the one person he needed them hid from, on the only time he'd been with the person. "I ermm... don't-"

Christophe shoved his lips against Gary's again, this time met with less resistance. He bit down on the lower lip, the pain to Gary was raw but so thrilling, he groaned as Christophe sucked at the tender area, drawing luscious tasting blood. The thrill of the moment overcame Gary and he did what he never should have done: he kissed back, even more hungrily, blood mingling with saliva, an exhilarating flavour. He knew that his morals were screaming at him to stop, just like his hormones were screaming at him to continue. All he wanted to do was ignore them, so he could properly enjoy the moment. He hardly knew Christophe, but what he did know was that this would soon approach extremely dangerous territory.

The French boy pushed Gary down onto the ground as he deepened the kiss, prying the less than reluctant mouth open with his tongue. He explored Gary's mouth, getting pleasure from the awkward but urgent desire of the boy. Gary's tongue battled with Christophe's as he fought to keep dirt covered hands away from his body. He still had some defences at that point. He was ready to stop at any time, just a few more precious seconds, and then he'd get out of there. The seconds turned into minutes. He began to pant as the kiss got longer, even deeper, and he lost the battle.

Christophe snaked his hand under Gary's shirt and up his smooth chest, flicking at the nipples and listening, with pleasure, to the groans this produced. Gary felt an overpowering yearning, an inability to stand up and get out of there. His head screamed at him to stop, for there were so many reasons, but his body would not listen, it endlessly ached for more contact, the desire consuming him to a point of no return. His crotch grew harder as his body continued to be explored and caressed, and the deep kissing never stopped.

Gary groaned as Christophe dropped his body fully, and ground their crotches together, he'd never experienced pleasure like it before, it was so sinfully blissful. "Ahhh, y-you should stop that," he whispered, but in a very unconvincing voice. Christophe chuckled and flicking Gary's nipples again, increased the pressure below the waist. The coarse material of his trousers created excellent friction, and it wasn't long until both boys were gasping frantically at the exhilaration running through their bodies.

They were grinding in the place Christophe had ground his cigarette all those years previous.

The pleasure was building. Ecstasy was pumping through Gary's trembling body; he involuntarily arched his hips, wanting more pressure, wanting more dirt. Christophe growled and pressed his lips to Gary's neck, sucking hard, he bit down on the delicate pale skin, as he continued to dry fuck the whimpering boy below him.

Gary knew that he was completely at the mercy of 'ze mole'. He was lying under a mercenary and praying that he would stop, whilst urgently clinging on in the hope that he would keep going. It was a battle of morals and hormones, and with the undeniable crush he had on the French boy, Gary knew his morals would never win. The thought would have made him sad and angry if he wasn't in such bliss.

"G-Garry you little sinner," groaned Christophe, as he bit and lapped at the boy's skin, claiming the neckline with harsh, unruly marks. His hands tangled in Gary's thick, blond hair, it ruffled into a mess beneath him, specks of dirt running through it. It looked so undeniably sexy to Christophe, who just adored wrecking anything that was perfect. That's what he was doing.

"N-No, I'm Urghhh g-good," moaned the blond as he wrapped his arms around Christophe's broad back, clinging on frantically as his head swirled and his vision blurred.

Christophe trailed his teeth along Gary's jaw. "No, you're bad."

Gary didn't have the ability to phrase a response. He couldn't take the ecstasy any longer and with a final blissful groan, he was thrown over the edge. He went dizzy, he saw patches of white and with a rapturous feeling he shot his load. "F-fuck," he panted, to Christophe's delight. He'd got the little Mormon to do so many sinful things, to get so excited, without even undoing his pants. Swearing only caused Christophe more delight, and he soon found himself groaning as he reached his edge.

They both lay low, bodies going limp and the feeling of ecstasy slowly slipping away. Gary loosened his grip on Christophe's jacket, allowing some space between them. Christophe looked into Gary's wide, innocent blue eyes and almost felt something, but a rustling through the trees stopped this moment dead. Christophe clamped his hand over Gary's mouth to silence the last of the groans, panting in fear.

"Tophe, are you here?" called a posh, eloquent voice, like a prince in a fairytale, the words almost sung.

"Sheet," whispered Christophe, flinging himself off Gary, and scrambling up. He pulled the blond boy up, and quickly brushed the dirt off the back of his jacket. He didn't do anything with his own, knowing that it would look stranger if there _wasn't_ dirt on it. Gary zipped his light blue jacket up to the top, covering the satisfying but shameful damage on his neck.

Another blond appeared, striding with a natural grace into the clearing. He had such an overwhelming confidence, that he commanded you to look at him, and you couldn't help staring at his breathtaking beauty. He looked in bewilderment at Gary, who in returned plastered a forced smile to his face. If Gregory noticed Gary's flustered attitude, then he decided it wasn't important. He draped his arms around Christophe's neck, the same place Gary's had been only moments before. "I see you've found the box."

Christophe caressed Gregory's face delicately. "Oui," he looked over at Gary, "'Arrison was helping me."

Gregory scoffed. "What use would the Mormon be?"

Christophe shrugged. "He had his uses."

Gary felt ashamed and guilty, but most of all he felt coldly used. Christophe had said as much hadn't he? He forced himself to smile at the French boy, even though he wanted nothing more than to punch him hard, and make it hurt. He also felt dislike towards Gregory, and not just because of his attitude. Gregory was a reminder that not only had he indulged in sexual interaction with Christophe; he had also helped Christophe cheat. These were very big sins; these were not good things, even if they _felt_ so good.

And now Christophe would go back to his gorgeous, perfectly kept, and rather flamboyant boyfriend, like nothing had ever happened. And Gary would be left feeling imperfectly soiled, forever regretting what he did. Well, he wasn't going to let Christophe see the regret.

"I need to go home now," he chimed.

"Why, are your family going to go give blood or something?" asked Gregory, with a sneer.

"No, tonight we volunteer at the homeless shelter," replied Gary, his voice as cheerful and optimistic as ever. "Goodbye, it was nice to see you, Gregory." Purposefully leaving Christophe's name out was about as mean as he could get. He wanted to go home, change his pants, and forget the whole thing, like he was sure the other boy would.

As Gary walked away, Gregory pressed his lips to Christophe's. "So are you going to tell me now what was so important that you felt the need to bury it in the ground for all those years?" he asked.

"Non," replied Christophe, as he stared at the place him and the blue-eyed blond had just been lying. He felt strangely guilty, but not for cheating on Gregory. All the guilt in him was for hurting Gary. He felt the need to show Gary what was in the box, because that had been the agreement after all, and more than that, he wanted an excuse to see him.

The Mormon wasn't escaping so easily.

* * *

_A/N: __Ta daaa, so that was ermm... Garstophe? I don't know..._

_Reviews would be seriously loved, because I'm not sure whether to make this into a two-shot or not... but I have an idea that I could, and I've obviously left it open... SO PLEASE REVIEW? :3_


	2. It's Very Bad

_-Father, forgive me, I tried not to do it, turned over a new leaf, then tore right through it-  
-Pet Shop Boys-_

* * *

It was a relief that the window was unlocked, he could have picked the lock, but the scratching noise may have posed a problem. An unlocked window made getting into someone's house a lot easier. It wasn't breaking in; it was just entering without being invited. Christophe's logic was that he wouldn't need an invitation, not soon anyway, not with what he had planned.

He grunted as he pulled the window open, and with a forceful jump from the tree branch he was crouched on, landed on Gary's bed. He scrambled to shove a hand over the blond's mouth, before said boy could wake up and scream at the muscle heavy mass on top of him. He had left his boots on the tree branch, thinking they'd get in the way, tangle in the bed sheets, and weigh him down.

Gary gasped as he burst into consciousness, staring up in fear, and dark, menacing, green eyes staring back. He froze, not trying to move, not trying to scream, and just staring at Christophe, the boy who had invaded his dreams, now very much invading his waking moments. He didn't question how Christophe knew where he lived, or how he got in, the French boy was well-known for tracking, and even more well-known for entering anywhere, without a sign. Of all the crimes he had committed, not a single one could be pinned on him.

Gary continued staring frightened into Christophe's eyes, waiting for the boy to realise that he wasn't going to try and break free, and wasn't going to cry for help. He didn't want to.

Christophe withdrew his hand from over Gary's mouth. He moved backwards to the foot of the bed, where he sat crouching, ready to jump forward if he needed to. He took this opportunity, the moonlight pouring in through the open curtains, to observe the blond. Gary, in his night of panic sleeping and worried sweats, had been lying on top of the sheets. His pyjama bottoms were a dark blue, he wasn't wearing a top. His slim torso was almost a ghostly pale colour, the moonlight highlighting this. His eyes were very wide and very blue, shockingly so.

Even though his insides screamed at all the pain, all the confusion, and all the torment he was feeling, Gary smiled, it was faint, but it was enough to draw angry words from Christophe's mouth.

"Why are you smiling?" he growled.

"What else can I do? You've left me with nothing else. You've used me, left me forever accountable for something I can't take back." Gary's voice cracked as he talked in an almost inaudibly whisper. His heart-wrenching sad eyes almost made Christophe feel guilty, almost. "Why are you here?"

"I could use ze pathetic excuse zat I promised to tell you what was in ze box, but zat's not ze whole truth."

"I'm not sure I want to know the whole truth, Christophe. It's late, I don't want to sound rude, but wouldn't it be better if you left?" Gary had only just managed to get to sleep when the French boy arrived; he now feared he wouldn't sleep again. It was hard to sleep with the thoughts swirling his head. He'd succeeded in hiding his anguish from his family, being his usual bright self at the homeless shelter, and at the dinner table, but that had taken every last bit of his strength. As soon as he got into the privacy of his own room he'd broken down crying.

"Maybe eet would be better, oui. But I'm not going to."

"Why?"

"We got interrupted earlier; we didn't 'av time to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Christophe. I want to forget the whole thing ever happened." Gary wished he could do that, even more, he wished he could rid himself of his feelings. For even now as the French boy was staring at him, he could feel unwanted flips in his stomach, and the speeding up of his heart. He wished he meant it when he said he didn't want to talk, but that was a lie. He wanted to talk; he just didn't want to hear what Christophe had to say.

"You can't forget eet happened. Like you can't forget how good eet felt." Christophe dropped from a crouching position onto his knees; he crawled slightly closer to Gary, weighing up how far to push it. He stopped with he reached the blond's knees. He rested a hand on one of them. He wasn't stopped. "You also can't push out of your head how much you want to do eet again, and how much zat scares you."

Gary exhaled shakily, everything Christophe said was true. "E-even so, that doesn't mean it wasn't wrong, and that I'm not regretting it."

"Oh regret, how does eet feel?"

"How do you think it feels? It feels bad."

"Oh, I like bad things. Oui, sometimes feeling bad feels good. Do you not enjoy eet even a leetle bit?"

Gary didn't want to admit that he did. He didn't say anything, but the meaningful look in his eyes was a giveaway. He had no idea why he felt some enjoyment in the regret. It was strange, like the idea of doing something so morally wrong to him, and then utterly regretting it, brought him both pleasure and pain. The two were somehow linked on a level that Gary couldn't access understanding.

Christophe changed the subject. "So out of curiosity, would you like to know what was in ze box?"

Gary was drawn out of his trance. "Okay."

"Gold."

"You buried gold?" Now he was intrigued.

"Oui, eet was one gold bar. I was nine, I didn't know what to do wiz eet, I thought eet would be safe zere, and eet was until I heard ze news."

"What news?"

"Zat zose stupid greedy American's are going to clear some of ze forest for a new shopping centre. I 'ad to get eet before eet was too late."

"Gosh, so is it worth a lot of money?" Gary didn't know what else to ask. He didn't want to get talking about the shopping centre, although that wasn't pleasing news. He loved the forest, always going with his sister to play tag or observe the wildlife. Why did they always have to ruin those perfect natural places, couldn't they enjoy the simple things?

"Eet's worth about fifty thousand dollars, but no I'm not keeping eet. I want to give eet back to eet's rightful owner. I stole it from some shady people, who 'ad stolen it from some good people. I thought zat burying eet was the best thing at ze time."

Gary smiled, finding a flicker of joy from this. "This shows that there is good in you, Christophe. Finding the owner is a very honourable thing to do."

Christophe scowled. "Shut up."

Gary continued, making a point. "So not everything you do is sinful."

"Non, but most of eet ees." Christophe crawled further forward, grinning at the boy before him. "Would you like to do something seenful now?" he purred.

Gary's face flushed bright red, as he scrambled to not get trapped; everything had gone well, if it ended now, he could conclude it had only been a onetime blip. He'd definitely used a bad choice of words there. "No, no way. You need to leave."

"Oh, but I really, _really_ want to stay." Christophe's green eyes sparkled sadistically. They held the promise of pleasure, running parallel with the promise of pain.

"I'm not doing anything again. It's so wrong."

"It ees very bad eesn't it?" said Christophe rubbing his hand up Gary's pyjama leg, as it twitched beneath his touch.

For someone who was meant to have high morals, Gary wasn't trying very hard to fight Christophe off. His mind scrambled desperately for something useful to say. "W-what about Gregory? Don't you love Gregory?"

"Of course I love Gregory, 'av you seem him? He's amazing in every way."

Gary was panting, well aware of how high Christophe's hand was up his thigh. "Y-yes Gregory is amazing. You can't do th-this."

"Non, zat ees where you are mistaken. I shouldn't do zis, because eet's wrong, but I _can_ do zis. And I _will _do zis." Christophe trailed his hand even further up Gary's thigh, stroking between his legs. "Zere's a big difference between what we can't do and what we shouldn't do."

"I'm not just going to be some object of your lust." Gary grabbed the hand and pushed it away; attempting to push the whole of Christophe back, but his muscles weren't obeying him. His body wanted to be touched, even to be misused. It was almost as if he wanted to feel the blissful highs and then the excruciating, shaming lows.

"You are zough aren't you?" he whispered, nibbling on Gary's ear. When had his face gotten that close? "You're not going to stop me." He trailed his hands up Gary's smooth chest. "I excite you too much. I offer you things you haven't felt before." He flicked Gary's nipples harshly, revelling in the blond's shivers of protest as his fingers agonizingly teasing the skin.

Gary let out a small groan through heavy gasps. "N-no, Christophe, it's not enough. I c-can't do this." Could he? It was one thing to have a moment of weakness and repent for it, but completely another to have the same moment again, so soon after the first. "...I- I shouldn't do this." That was true; he definitely shouldn't do it...

"What eef I said zat I can't keep my hands off you. Zat you're like nothing I've ever known before." The French boy knew exactly how to get to Gary. He could see how desperate the boy was. He whispered in Gary's ear, with a heart-stopping sultry voice, "Tu me rends fou."

Gary yanked on Christophe's hair hard, urgently groaning into his mouth, giving into his trembling body. He bit Christophe's lip with the need that the French boy would bite back harder. He did, biting over the cut on Gary's lip from earlier, drawing the blood again. He savoured the metallic flavour, trailing his tongue along the blond's lip.

He held Gary's face in his hands, staring into the desperate eyes, shocking blue, they screamed out for attention, but they were also deliciously scared of it. Those eyes alone made Christophe lose all control, but then he _wanted_ to. He attacked Gary's neck again, this time moving down the shoulders. He clawed at the skin with his short nails, red marks appeared below, and Gary softly panted. He listened intently to the stifled groans, increasing the pressure of the bites each time Gary audibly reacted.

Gary tugged with irritation at Christophe's faintly blood stained shirt, he wanted it off. Christophe sensed this and between ferocious kisses, pulled it over his head, deciding to comply with the request. It landed on the Mormon's otherwise perfectly kept and clean floor. Exploring the contours of the mercenary's well-trained and flawlessly toned body was thrilling work for Gary's hands. He clutched at the waist with need to be close to the tanned skin.

Christophe bit down on Gary's shoulder, into the unmarked white skin. This caused the blond to fall backwards, attempting to keep his hold on the French boy's waist, trying to use all his strength left to stay balanced. He yelled as his legs were pulled out beneath him. His head crashed against the bed's head rail, sending shocks of unexpected pleasure through him, he gasped as the gratifying pain sent him dizzy. He felt Christophe attacking his chest, unsure of which part.

Tormenting growls emitted from below him as the French boy made his way lower down the torso.

A growing hardness below the Mormon's waist confirmed that he was enjoying being attacked, but he panicked, not about what he was doing, but about possible short-term repercussions. "C-Christophe, my family's asleep. If we wake them up then we've h-had it," he panted.

The French boy licked his lips. "Zen you best try not to scream... alzough zat may be difficult." Christophe knew what he wanted to do, and it surprisingly did not revolve around his own gratification, more wanting to see Gary unravel, this would give him pleasure enough. This was what he came for.

"What do yo-ahhh." Gary bit down on his lip hard, trying to stop the shocked scream. Christophe had pulled down his pyjama pants and boxers, releasing the member within, and immediately starting pumping; giving it the type of attention it had never had before, Gary was most likely the only male in South Park that had never done anything to himself. He fell backwards as he felt himself shake. His thinking became ever more short-term, not even focusing on getting caught; all he could feel was the moment, and the moment felt good.

"Do you like zat, Mormon?" teased Christophe as he stopped pumping and stroked around the tip with his finger.

Gary almost screamed in frustration. "D-don't stop!"

"Oh, you _want_ me to continue?" Christophe purred, as he trailed his tongue down Gary's stomach excruciatingly slowly, stopping to lay kisses on his sensitive hip bones.

"YES continue, do it, NOW!" He really hoped his parents were heavy sleepers, or that if they did hear him, they'd conclude something much more innocent.

"Mmm, okay zen."

Gary's brain almost blacked out when he felt a warm and wet tightness around his member, shocking his core. He managed a blurry look down; making contact with Christophe's enticing green eyes. The intensity of those eyes would never leave him. This moment would be fixed in his mind forever. He, the Mormon was being sucked off by a mercenary, a guy, and he couldn't be in more bliss. He writhed ecstatically, as Christophe increased the speed. He had a fast and forceful rhythm; it was perfect for Gary, whose hips bucked forward. Christophe took control of them, digging his nails into the pale skin, firmly in command of the situation.

Gary was exhilarated, he whimpered, reaching forward to tangle his fingers into Christophe's knotted hair, just to hold something. He had to stop himself banging his hands against the headboard. It was all he could do to control the noise. Biting down on his lip harder to try to silence groans as the pleasure around his body increased, he pulled Christophe's head down harder, receiving a low growl. The mercenary took the Mormon into the back of his throat, wanting nothing more than to hear those stifled groans.

Gary realised as he saw spots of white appear before his eyes that he couldn't hold out. The aching in his body and the pulsing in his penis was too much to bear, together with the fact that the only boy to ever make him feel so dirty was the one making him feel so satisfied. He drew blood from his own lip as he tried with all his might not to scream. The blood flow to his head momentarily stopped, and with a muffled moan, he expelled his seed in Christophe's ready mouth. The moment was pure heaven; nothing could stop him thinking that. No amount of guilt could take away the ecstasy of the moment.

He lay down with his eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. He was unaware what Christophe had decided to do with the come although he had the feeling it was swallowed. He felt warm breath on his neck and opened his eyes to see dark green ones fixed intently on him for a few seconds, before proceeding to close.

Christophe gently grazed Gary's lips with his own, licking and cleaning up the blood from where the Mormon had bitten down. He lay beside Gary, wrapping his arms around his bare and warm waist, almost gently, waiting for the breathing to slow down a little. This tender moment was confusing for both parties. "Now you tell me," he whispered in a low gravely tone, "why something zat felt zat good could be wrong."

Gary didn't have an answer.

* * *

_A/N: Planning on making this into at least another 2 parts if there's interest... I've just had an idea. Other characters, there's definitely going to be Gregory and Stan in it, I'm just not sure how much... bear with me. And there's going to be more to it than JUST feeling Gary up. So if you're interested give a little whistle... And always let your conscience be your guide (unless you're Christophe, and debatably Gary) *jazz hands* _


	3. It's Abuse

_-Father, you fought me, 'cause I didn't care, and I still don't understand-  
-Pet Shop Boys-_

* * *

"Tell me what's wrong, Gary."

"There's nothing wrong."

Stan pointed an accusatory finger. "That's a lie, just stop lying, and start telling the truth again." He had coaxed the Mormon over to his house, finally getting him on his own, and now he was at last going to get some answers.

The transformation in Gary was immense. It was as if something was missing in him, and something else gained. Stan saw it happen; he saw how his friend was slowly slipping away from him, every day a little less cheerful, every day a little less communicative. Stan often saw the look of guilt washed over Gary's face. He was lifelessly pale, not the almost angelic pale glow he used to have. Stan was sure Gary had lost weight too; his clothes seemed to hang more loosely from him, but he was sure Gary hadn't been eating any less.

When Stan caught a glimpse of Gary's English paper, and saw not the usual A grade, but a C, he guessed something was seriously wrong.

And now trailing his eyes over the blond's face, seeing guilt set into the eyes, an almost look of defeat on his face, he knew it was.

"Oh man, Stan, where do you want me to start?" Gary had that cheerful, optimistic tone in his voice, but with underlying notes of worry. His voice was much quieter than it used to be, as if he were extremely drained and weary.

"So you have been keeping a massive secret then?" Stan sat down on his bed and yanked his hat off, running his hand through his hair, this was exactly what he hoped wasn't true.

Gary sat down next to him and gave him a quick reassuring hug, like Stan was the one that needed comforting. "I'm sorry. I still don't know how much I should tell you." The blond sighed. "It's really messed up and complicated, not to mention wrong."

Stan puzzled. "How could you be doing something that's _wrong?_ All you ever do is good; just tell me, I'm sure that I can help you sort it out."

"No, you can't."

"Do you _need_ help?"

Gary rested his head on Stan's shoulder. Having Stan near him was comforting, the quarterback usually had a calm atmosphere around him, and it was soothing. Gary didn't feel on edge around him, like he did with a certain French boy. When Stan was around, he felt he could relax. "I don't know."

Stan draped his arm over Gary's shoulder, providing yet more warmth and comfort. "You need to tell me what's wrong."

"I don't even know if something is wrong, or if it's fine. I can't tell whether my life is amazing or completely falling apart." Gary could feel his composure slipping, the tears threatening to emerge. "I know I shouldn't be doing it though." The tears came then, flooding out of his eyes and down his face. He knew he wasn't able to talk about it without crumbling. "I just can't help myself. I've never felt so weak, Stan." He clung to his friend, vulnerably burying his head into the shoulder. Stan's questioning had succeeded in breaking him down, and now he was powerless to deny anything.

Stan gazed down at Gary, noticing a formidable purple mark on the boy's neck, one which when he was at a normal angle would be hidden by his shirt collar. Stan had a bad feeling about that mark. Sure it had something to do with Gary's problems.

"Where did you get that mark on your neck?" he whispered.

Gary slowly lifted his head off Stan's shoulder and stood up. Without saying a word, he unbuttoned his shirt, too ashamed at that moment to make eye contact. He took his shirt off completely and threw it on the bed. He spun around slowly, before facing Stan.

In any other scenario, Gary's actions would have made Stan blush, but he gasped as he took in the full extent of the damage. Both bold and faint bruises trailed along Gary's neck, leading into scratches down his chest, and what appeared to be a few burn marks, perhaps from cigarettes? Gary's skin was so pale that the purples and browns really stood out. Stan grabbed Gary's wrists in his hands, staring into the glazed over, blue eyes with concerned anger. "Who did this to you?"

"P-please, Stan, I love them."

"You mean you've been _letting_ someone abuse you?"

"It's not abuse, seriously I'm fine." Gary smiled, but Stan could see in the eyes that the smile was devoid of any meaning. After sensing Stan's anger, Gary grabbed for his shirt and quickly put it back on. "The scratches and bites are just part of it."

"Part of what?" yelled Stan. "Part of love? Whoever is doing this, this is not love!" Stan glared at Gary, he wasn't angry at him, he was just angry. "Do I know her?"

Gary cast his head down, if his body had enough energy, he would have blushed. "It's a guy, Stan. And yes, you do know him."

"Whoa, wait a second, these marks they're not... you're not... are you?" Stan tried to phrase what he was trying to say. The emotions he was feeling made that difficult. "Are you having _relations_ with this guy? Is that what this is?" Finding out that his friend was gay at the same time as finding out he was in love with someone else was hard. By the look of the marks, Gary was in deep, and had interests Stan never knew of.

"In simple terms, yes."

"You? But, Gary, I didn't think you could do that stuff."

Gary repeated the words that seemed drilled into his head, words that when he was caught in a blur of longing, seemed to make everything alright, if only for a short while. "I shouldn't do it, but I can do it." The tears stung his eyes again. "I really shouldn't do it, and not just because it goes against the principles of my religion, not just because I'm sinning and breaking basic human morals, I'm going to inevitably hurt other people."

Stan grabbed Gary's shoulders, holding the shaking boy steady. "Explain to me exactly what is going on."

Gary nodded. "There's this guy, and I'd secretly liked him for so long, there was something mysterious about him. I met him one day when I was nine, and then never spoke to him again until one day in the forest. That day in the forest, he just starting kissing me, and something broke down inside my head that made me kiss back." Gary took a deep shaky breath. "Th-that night he got into my room, and... I tried to stop him going further, but I didn't try very hard. I was desperate for him. I've been having sex with him ever since, and the worst part is, I don't even try to fight it anymore, I initiate in half the time."

"Sex?" whispered Stan.

"Yes, sex, Stan, the thing I'm only meant to do with a wife, I've been doing now, with a guy, at seventeen."

Stan was turning so pale he looked as if he was going to pass out. "Okay, okay. I get how you may see that as sinning." He ran his hand through his hair again, not knowing how to process such shocking news. "But how is that breaking basic human morals? It's just lust, how is it hurting others?" Stan didn't need to tell Gary that it was hurting him, that every word the Mormon said dug deeper into _his_ heart.

Gary almost couldn't say it he was so ashamed. "Because the person I'm having it with already has a partner. He's cheating with me." Gary looked into Stan's eyes. "I'm helping him have an affair. If it's possible, this makes it so much worse. It adds even more sins."

Stan didn't say anything else; there was nothing he could say. He just wrapped his arms around Gary and pulled him down. They lay like that for a while, as Gary cried his tears dry, and Stan attempted to not start crying himself.

When he felt composed enough, he asked the crucial question. "If I know this guy, then who is he?"

Gary debated whether to say it or not, but knew that it was hopeless to withhold any information now. "Christophe DeLorne."

Stan shot up. "Oh no, oh no no no no no," he yelled in a blur of panic. "You can't be serious."

"I'm serious," whispered Gary in shame.

"Oh God, anyone but him, Gary! Anyone but that psychopath." Stan's eyes opened wide in realisation. "And he's cheating on Gregory, do you realise what Gregory is capable of, don't you realise what he could do! He's the definition of a manipulative bastard who could get away with murder. He's almost as bad as the French prat!" Stan tried to stop the rage building. "How could you love him?"

"I don't know. He's like a poisonous drug of which I'm utterly addicted to as it slowly steals my life away."

"Wow, dude. That would almost be poetic if it wasn't so FUCKED UP!" yelled Stan with a sneer which was in no way native to his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, not wanting to let his emotions show. He spoke softer. "I will help you, you know. If you want me to, I will help you get your life back."

"I'm not sure I want it back."

"You can't mean that!"

"Don't try to understand what I mean, Stan."

"But, those marks, the bites, the scratches... the abuse. How can you let that happen?"

Gary snapped. "IT'S NOT ABUSE! I ENJOY IT, I FUCKING LOVE BEING WITH CHRISTOPHE, AND YOU ARE NOT TAKING THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

Stan looked at Gary with hurt in his eyes. The boy before him was so conflicted. He did seem to love Christophe. He seemed to love and hate what he was doing. He seemed like he'd lost all control and was rapidly losing direction. Shouting and swearing was not Gary, it was more in line with the fucked up French boy.

Stan reached out an arm as Gary turned to storm away. "Wait, please, let me take you out tonight."

Gary's voice fell softer. "What?"

"Please, I just want to spend some relaxing time with you. We can forget all this for a little while I swear. Just, just don't leave things tense between us. I'll try to understand." Stan couldn't part with the blond, he just couldn't. It would kill him more to not be around him at all, than listen to him talk about Christophe.

Gary smiled faintly. "Sure."

"Seven?"

"...I'll come over then."

And not another word was said as Gary left the room, and Stan hit the wall hard with his fist, before bursting into tears and falling down onto his bed.

* * *

Gary was whistling as he stepped out of the shower. That was foreign, he hadn't whistled in a while. He was feeling strangely optimistic, but he wasn't sure what about. Was it that there was a chance Stan would understand what was going on with Christophe, and that eventually it may get easier? He did feel some small relief in having someone else know about it. Or was it simply the fact that he was going out with Stan that night, just doing something easy with a friend?

He realised that those two options were very different. It was the difference between wanting a complicated life, and wanting an easy one.

So which one did he want?

He decided not to think about it, not right then. There was nothing more to seeing Stan than having an honest time, one that only involved nice things. So he'd leave all his other thoughts (of Christophe) to rest for a while.

His family was out, so he had the house to himself, it was peacefully quiet. Gary laughed to himself at the thought, it was never quiet in his house, and it was almost freaky to hear it so. He turned on the radio, and to his amusement the Pet Shop Boys blasted around the house. He shrugged, they were good enough.

_You live in a time of decay when the worth of a man is how much he can play. _He laughed; this song was a secret pleasure of his. He carried on moving about his bedroom, joining in with the lyrics occasionally, when he knew them. Without thinking too deeply about it, he loved how gay the lead singer sounded.

_Every actor needs an audience every action is a performance. _This song reminded him of Gregory.

_You're so flamboyant the way you look it gets you so much attention._ It really was the song that eternally reminded him of Gregory. The Brit didn't wear flashy colours and skip everywhere, but he had those bold yet fluid movements, that natural heart-stopping grace which had you staring. Yes, Gregory really was something worth gawking at, Gary had always thought this. He could command any attention he wanted from both sexes with a few simple words, the flick of a hand, or even just a look in his eyes. He was almost like a Shakespearean actor; people would fall at his feet... those deadly feet.

And as if arriving on cue, a crash came through Gary's front door.

Gregory had timing too.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, screw it. This is now a full blown story, with __**more than**__ one part left, that's for sure. And it seems to be linked with the Pet Shop Boys... let's roll with that. (Btw the song that appears every chapter is obviously 'It's a Sin', I'm actually running out of lyrics there now, may have to cheat. The song that Gary was listening to is 'Flamboyant'.)_

_For those waiting for Gregory, he's coming, oh boy is he coming. (Stop saying coming, it will give them dirty thoughts) *Throws Gregory head first into the story* zere we go, beetches._


	4. It's Just a Scratch

_A/N: Thank you for all the supporting reviews and stuff, you're the reason this isn't just a one-shot._

* * *

_-Every time I see you something happens to me, like a chain reaction between you and me, my heart starts missing a beat, my heart starts missing a beat, every time-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(Heart)-_

* * *

Gary froze, panic running through his mind. He was unsure of how to act. Something or someone had just come through his front door, and his family weren't due back for hours.

Why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

"Hello?" called up a bold, articulate voice. Gary wasn't sure whether to feel less or more scared by that voice. "Is anybody there?"

Could he pretend that he was out? Not answer? Would the person leave?

The voice sounded slightly distressed though, no anger, no knowing of certains affairs. "I could do with some help."

Gary hurried down the stairs to where Gregory stood in the doorway, his shirt ruffled, his usually perfect hair speckled with dirt and blood. Gary gasped as he saw Christophe, leaning reliantly on the blond Brit's shoulder, his eyes half closed, a cigarette clamped in his mouth. His clothes were covered in blood stains, and to Gary's horror, they appeared to be Christophe's own.

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

Gregory ignored Gary's panic. "The door was open, didn't think you'd mind." He flicked a hand through his hair, taking in the small living room, as if checking his surroundings first came naturally to him. He laid Christophe down carefully on the sofa, and the French boy's eyes shut all the way as he fell unconscious. "The Mole informed me that you were the best person to help." In one swoop of the eye, Gregory took Gary in, looking almost disapprovingly, although he must have approved, for he continued, "I trust his judgment." Gregory's use of 'The Mole' rather than 'Christophe' came from the fact he'd just been using the former name on their mission.

Gary searched his head frantically for something to say, he felt so intimidated and worried. All he wanted to do was throw his arms around Christophe, attend to his every need, but he knew he couldn't. He had to act detached, but not too detached. It was hard to know what to say. "He's smoking in an unconscious state? I don't think that's a good idea." He wasn't sure where that came from, or why suddenly the smoking bothered him so much. Why had he said that? He was panicking; he needed to act more normal.

Gregory rolled his eyes and pulled the cigarette out of Christophe's mouth, placing it in his own. "Better?"

Gary said nothing, instead choosing to kneel beside Christophe, placing a hand on his head, an action he could get away with. "What happened?" he asked, connecting with Gregory's hazel eyes. They were the only giveaway that the Brit was experiencing some emotion. Those eyes looked anxious.

"Oh, we were out doing... something," Gregory seemed cautious at what to share, "just a small task. And he got stabbed in the side, trying to... escape as it were. It's just a small wound, he momentarily passed out from the shock, and I suppose the blood loss. he doesn't usually pass out. He usually keeps going. I'd say he needs a bandage and a place to rest, that's why he said you could help, it was the only thing he said: 'Gary can 'elp, take me to Gary's 'ouse'" Gregory impersonated Christophe's accent extremely successfully. It was clear from his attitude that this type of thing had happened before, that it wasn't uncommon for him to see Christophe with various injuries.

Gary was a little more worried though; blood loss was never a good thing, (not unless it was in a sexual way). "He got stabbed! By what? By who?"

"A knife, and I don't know, just some guard, not a very competent one, not a very good aim if he was aiming for the heart." He cast his eyes over Christophe. "If Tophe had followed my plan then this wouldn't have happened." Gregory inhaled on Christophe's cigarette, and slowly exhaled. "He can be very stubborn."

"Yes." Gary peeled Christophe's shirt off, gasping at the blood. However to his relief the wound was only small, and could be cleaned up quite easily.

"I'll get your first aid kit for you. I assume it's in the kitchen?"

"Well...thanks. It's in the first cupboard." Gary leaned in close to Christophe the second Gregory's back was turned; he briskly grazed his lips over the injured mercenary's, a brief kiss. The taste of smoke and blood, from a cut on Christophe's lip, filled his mouth, instantly making him flustered. He pulled his head away before he could be caught. "Oh, Christophe," he whispered, "you must listen to Gregory, stop being so stubborn, I don't want you getting hurt."

Gregory returned with the first aid kit and Gary cleaned Christophe up, cleaning the wound, and wrapping a bandage around his waist. Luckily, Christophe was not in need of stitches. Gregory told Gary that the knife hadn't gone in very far before Christophe punched his attacker away; his injury worsened by having to run as it bled.

When Gary turned around to the other blond, finished with Christophe, Gregory raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Why, Gary, you've got blood on your lips, I didn't mean you to lick Christophe clean."

Gary went red. "I wasn't I was just-"

"Were you eating him?" Gregory laughed musically. "Are you a vampire?"

"I-I just leant in too far checking the wound."

Gregory laughed again. "That must taste awful." He threw a box of tissues towards Gary, who reluctantly wiped it off his lips, rather than licking it off which he'd have rather done. "Blood is just part of what we do."

"What _were_ you doing that involved guards and knives anyway?"

"Oh, Mormon, if I told you then I'd have to... well, you know the rest." Gregory winked; it was a strange action to see him do. He must have felt at ease around Gary, much to the Mormon's relief, although it did increase his guilt. "I suppose I should thank you for this, and I do mean it. You've done a good job."

"Oh well you're very welcome, dad wanted us all to have first aid training to help anyone who needed fixing up."

Gregory nodded. "That's wise. May I use your bathroom to fix myself up?"

Gary smiled. "Absolutely, do you need any help?"

"Thank you, but no, I've only got a few cuts... and if truth be told I want to get the dirt out of my hair. I don't put myself in danger the way he does. It's the nature of our roles." Gregory smiled. "He's very brave."

Gary couldn't bear it as he walked away. How could he lie to Gregory so terribly? How could he justify what he was doing with Christophe when the Brit was so clueless, and so happy? Why couldn't he tear himself away? If he could he would, but there was no way he was strong enough to. It was all such a guilt-ridden mess, and he was in the wrong. He sat down on the sofa next to where Christophe was lying and stroked his head.

When Gregory returned, he sat down on the sofa opposite the sleeping Christophe. He rested one foot on top of his leg, his knee making a triangle shape. He lit another cigarette up, placing the first on a plate in the centre of the table. He yawned, and then looked at Gary questioningly. "So, I wasn't aware that you and Tophe even knew each other that well."

"I've known Christophe since we were both nine," chimed Gary. It was the truth, just stretched rather a lot.

"He never mentioned you." Gregory had a dazzling ability to tell it how it was.

"Well, I've only just got reacquainted, that day in the forest actually. I stumbled upon him as I was out for a walk."

"Oh yes, he was digging for that blasted box. I wouldn't have thought you and Christophe would be..." Gregory paused, searching for the right word "...compatible. What with you being a Mormon and he hating God and all."

Gary smiled. "He can believe whatever he wants; it's not going to stop me being friends with him." Friends with a lot of benefits...

"Right." Satisfied with Gary's answers, Gregory no longer had interest in the subject; he didn't want to get on the subject of religion. He inhaled on his cigarette, damn Christophe for getting him into the habit.

Gary was wondering how he was going to explain the smell to his parents. It fell silent between the two blond's for a while, with Gregory almost analyzing Gary's living room, and Gary gazing into space. A cough from next to him snapped Gary out of his daze.

"Who stole my fucking cigarette?" Christophe pushed himself up so he could get a better look of the living room, this action made his head spin as he realised the pain in his side. Not worrying for a second about the cause of the pain, he glared around the room, eyes connecting with Gregory. "Gregory, you faggot, give me zat."

Gregory strode over to Christophe, smirking. With one hand stroking down the mercenary's face, he used the other to transfer the cigarette. "There you go, you big baby." He walked back towards the sofa opposite. "But Harrison raised a good point. It wasn't a good idea to be smoking whilst you were barely conscious."

Christophe jumped, realising for the first time that he was not in his or Gregory's house, he was in Gary's, and Gary was next to him. "Gary?!" And then it all came back to him, the fence, the dog, the guard and being stabbed. He'd told Gregory to bring him here, and of course the blond had, the blond trusted him. Christophe groaned.

"You should take it easy and lie down for a bit." Gary's words were soft, as he patted Christophe's forehead.

"I'm fine, beetch. Eet's just a scratch."

"Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, t'is enough," Gregory quoted in his best Shakespeare voice, which was obviously completely outstanding.

"Oh please no Shakespeare, 'av mercy, I'll rest." Christophe looked annoyed by this prospect, happier to get up and start another mission than lie down for boring reasons. He spun around on the sofa and rearranged himself into a half sitting position, which allowed him to see Gary. He eyed the blond Mormon cautiously. "Why do you look like zat?"

Gary was confused. "Like what?"

"All dressed up and groomed, what reason do you 'av to make yourself look so nice?"

Gary blushed. "I ermm, I didn't think I _was_ dressed up."

Christophe narrowed his eyes. "You don't wear zat shirt unless you're going out somewhere."

Gary really did hate being around people with the perfect ability to read into and analyze everything. Someone extremely good at that was Gregory, and his brain was was so much jealousy in the mercenary's voice, and unfortunately, Gregory could easily detect it. Why did Christophe have such knowledge of Gary's clothes? He quickly became interested in watching their interactions, waiting for the Mormon's response.

Gary gave no response, looking down at his feet, the smile slipping from his face. That was interesting.

Gregory observed as Christophe lightened his eyes, looking intently at Gary. "Thank you for 'elping me."

Politeness? Courtesy? What was this?

Gary smiled. "It was nothing; of course I'd help you."

Christophe was speaking softly, unconsciously moving closer to Gary. "Yes I know you would."

Gregory wondered if they'd forgotten he was there as they continued to talk in the same, uncharacteristically for Christophe, friendly manner. He noticed that Christophe's eyes never roamed away from the Mormon for long. Gary had a pull on him that seemed to prod at the boundaries of friendship. Perhaps that pull had already gone past those boundaries? The way he looked at the Mormon was not how Gregory would have liked it.

Oh, was this the reason Christophe requested Gary? And then a thought occurred to him... the blood on Gary's lips.

Gregory had seen enough, his voice cut through the silence that had fallen over them, causing the two other boys to jump, moving apart: another interesting action. "I'm going."

Gary seemed concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Christophe's okay now and he can find his own way home. He's a big boy after all."

"Zat ees true," Christophe reached his arms up to embrace the blond, "goodnight, Gregory."

"Pleasant dreams..." Gregory swiftly stood up and headed out the front door, without kissing goodbye to Christophe. He needed time to think, he was rapidly reaching a conclusion that he didn't think he could bear. He chanced a last glance at Gary as he left the house. He saw the look in the Mormon's eyes at Christophe. Gregory could tell that Gary was hopelessly, desperately, utterly in love, it was obvious. Something in Christophe suggested that it may not be unfounded, that it may not be one way.

He began to walk frantically towards his house, churning thoughts in his head, but as he walked down the drive, found his path blocked.

"Marsh?"

Stan gasped, fear flickering in his eyes. "Gregory, what are you doing here?" His tone was one of shock, but with underlying fury. It was no secret that Stan and Gregory did not best like each other. They'd never gotten over their disagreements in childhood, Stan harbouring unfounded resentment.

"You'll find your answer in there," replied the blond bitterly, jerking his head in the direction of Gary's house.

"Is something wrong?" asked Stan warily. He'd worried as much when Gary hadn't turned up at his.

Gregory's eyes flickered across the American's face, and he immediately realised it. "You know don't you?" He gritted his teeth. "There's something not quite right between Tophe and the Mormon, and you know what it is." Gregory drew closer to Stan, as he did so inhaling his cologne. It had a light yet deep scent. "And now you're trying to check if I've done something to upset them, without directly asking me." He pointed a finger accusingly at Stan. "Don't worry, I haven't done anything. I'm probably the only one to not have done anything." His thoughts were disorganised, but he planned on organising them.

Stan didn't reply as he stared unblinkingly back at Gregory.

This confirmed the Brit's thoughts. "Ha, thought not," he spat, acidity in his voice.

"So, Christophe's in there?"

"Yeah, sorry we ruined your evening. You were going out by the looks of it?" Gregory sniffed Stan's cologne again, and eyed his clothes. A small smile crept onto his face, spiteful not happy. "You like him, don't you, Marsh? You like the Mormon."

Stan leapt backwards. "What? Uh no! No way."

"Oh, you definitely like him." Gregory laughed. "Shame, I think he has eyes for someone else." Sadness filled Gregory's eyes again then, mixed with anger and confusion, such an array of emotions not usually seen on the beautiful blond's face. "If you're looking for a nice night, Stan, I think you're headed in the wrong direction."

"And what direction should I be going in?"

"Anywhere but towards _that_ house, that den of sin."

"You're calling the Mormon house a den of sin?"

Gregory laughed bitterly; he supposed it did sound ridiculous. He had a pretty good feeling that Gary wasn't being a good little Mormon. But he decided that he wouldn't come to any conclusions until he knew for sure. He wouldn't come to any conclusions until he'd _questioned_ Gary. And if it did happen to be true then there was one person who would be in trouble... at least one person.

Gregory passed his eyes over Stan again. "Don't go getting yourself mixed up in this, Jock. It's never a good idea when Christophe is involved."

Stan scowled. "But Gary's involved."

"And if it's what I think it is, then it doesn't call for a third person." His composure was slipping; he felt the sting of tears in his eyes and knew that he had to get away from Stan. He wasn't ready or prepared for someone to see him pathetically crying. "Goodbye, Stan." Gregory's voice cracked, no longer holding its musical theatricality.

Stan was left staring after him as he hurried away. Was Gregory about to cry? No, surely not... not Gregory.

* * *

_A/N: I'm trying to get the balance here, but if anyone is missing Christophe/Gary' alone time', there is some next chapter._

_Please leave your thoughts peeps, and in return, I'll leave you the next chapter. x_


	5. It's Getting Complicated

_-You can live your life lonely heavy as stone, live your life learning, and working alone, say this is all you want, but I don't believe that it's true,  
'cause when you least expect it, waiting round the corner for you, love comes quickly, whatever you do you can't stop falling-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(Love comes quickly)-_

* * *

It was Friday afternoon, the day after Christophe and Gregory had burst through Gary's front door. Gary lay on his bed next to Christophe, stroking his scarred chest gently, and running his fingers over the newly obtained cuts. He'd changed the bandages, this time able to kiss the skin. Both boys thought they'd managed to keep their secret as a secret, they did not notice Gregory's sudden aloofness and the odd circumstances of his sudden exit. It was Gregory, it wasn't uncommon.

"It ees your family 'ome evening tonight, oui?" asked Christophe.

"Sure, when my family get home." They'd gone out again without Gary, who'd made the excuse that he was helping Christophe study. Gary smiled. "Do you want to stay for it?"

"I do, eet was fun ze last time."

Gary laughed at Christophe's warped definition of 'fun' and how his family did not agree. "This time try to avoid calling my little brother a faggot when he bankrupts you during monopoly, and then blaming God for losing. Definitely don't use the phrase 'cock-sucking asshole'. Oh, and don't start smoking and ask for a coffee, which also wasn't... the best thing you could have done."

"Funny zough." Christophe stretched his arms up in a yawn. "And eet's ridiculous 'ow you people don't drink coffee or smoke."

"I don't mind too much, I'm not keen on the taste."

"Of coffee or cigarettes? Because I know for a fact zat ze taste of cigarettes excites you." Christophe drew his face closer to Gary's. "Do you want to know 'ow I know?"

Gary mirrored Christophe's action. "How?"

"Because you're about to kiss me."

"True." He smiled warmly and closed the gap, softly kissing Christophe's lips in a gentle, loving moment. When he had moments like that, he could forget all the sins. Forget the guilt, because it was just simply love. And whether Christophe felt it wasn't important, although in certain moments, Gary felt he did.

He smiled as Christophe's hands wrapped around his waist, holding him. Though he would have been happy for it to continue in this tender way, he decided that with his family out, it was the perfect opportunity to scream whilst committing delicious sins... so wrong, but, God damn, so right. And the guilt if anytime, he would feel later, though probably not at all.

He pounced forward, using all the force in his small frame to push Christophe back. He smiled at Christophe's delightful grunt of shock, before pushing his lips harder against the other's, a hell of a lot more force than before. He pried Christophe's mouth open with his tongue and fought to have access to exploring it, badly trying to get dominance over the mercenary.

It happened, Christophe allowing Gary momentary access to his mouth, entertained by the Mormon's sudden burst of desire. Gary revelled in exploring the mouth, taking in everything about it, pushing his leg up in-between Christophe's, which were forced to spread apart. He pulled his lips away, sharing a look, as if daring the mercenary to react.

Christophe did nothing to stop Gary; he acted as if he had no power_ to_ stop him. "Are you trying to take advantage of me?" he asked, putting fear into his voice.

Gary smirked. "Yes I am."

"What are you going to do?"

Gary ran a hand up Christophe's chest, using a pointed finger to trace the highly defined muscles. He dipped his head so his mouth could gain access to the scars, tongue tracing them, leaving a trail that almost shined on Christophe's tanned skin, bringing out new colours. Gary trailed his tongue along Christophe's newly attained cuts too, groaning as the faint coppery taste filled his mouth. He'd discovered how much he loved blood; it was turning into an obsession. Everything about it was mesmerizing, the colour, the consistency, and the luscious way it tasted on Christophe's skin. Plus the way it smelled, like danger.

Gary pressed down on Christophe's chest, mouths inches from each other. "I'm going to make you scream my name."

Christophe played along, struggling beneath his captor, but hardly moving, as if he'd been given a demobilizing drug. "I will never scream your name. I don't even know your name."

"My name's Gareth." He licked Christophe's lips. "But you can call me Gary."

"I'm never going to say zat name, let me go." It wasn't entirely an act. Christophe didn't like letting his guard down and letting his feeling rule, he liked to be in control.

Gary was enjoying his new-found dominance. He wasn't thinking of anything else, just the moment, and what he could do to Christophe and what he could _make_ Christophe do. "Oh, you will." He pressed their lips together, biting on the bottom one. His lips were a cracked and broken mess, it was time Christophe's were too. His lover groaned faintly, in a reaction to Gary's more audible groans as he licked along the cut, the taste of fresh blood now prominent in his mouth.

"You faggot," grumbled Christophe in mock disgust.

"You sound like you're enjoying it." Gary moved his head down along Christophe's body until he reached the waist band, trailing his fingers over Christophe's crotch. He shifted his body back so he had better access. "Hey, you look like you're enjoying it too!"

Gary sounded so cutely excited that Christophe almost broke character into a smile. Trust Gary to play the role in an overly enthusiastic way. He was just happy that Gary seemed cheerful and care-free at that moment. "You faggot," he spat out again, growing more aroused.

"I don't want you to speak again, unless it's my name." Gary slowly undid the top button of Christophe's pants. "Or else I'll have you use force."

This rarely seen side of Gary, which still kept with his old happy charm, was such a treat to the now fully aroused Christophe. "Do your worse, beetch."

Gary grinned playfully. "No, I'll do my best, _bitch_." He knelt on the bed in front of the lying Christophe. He pulled down the zip and pulled both combat pants and underwear all the way off, throwing them on his floor and exposing the mercenary's member to the air of his room. He kissed the tip in a welcoming manner, stroking up and down Christophe's thighs, moving his hands to the base and then back again. He licked around the head, taking in the taste, the scent; everything was inviting and made his mouth water.

He alternated between sucking at the cock, and desperately crashing his lips into Christophe's for deep kisses. The constant swap between the two was starting to make the mercenary's head spin, he began to lose control, his usually guarded thoughts spinning wild. He ran his hands down Gary's back, harshly squeezing his ass, just for some form of power, but the moan from Gary this action purged, made his head spin even more. It was his heart, his heart was powering the deeper reaction, mixing together sexual pleasure from his cock, with the need to kiss Gary's tender lips.

"Mnnn, Ga-" Christophe stopped himself, trying not to say the name, to scream out the name of the boy he loved. Yes, he loved Gary; it was always bound to develop that way, he would always end up reciprocating. His head spun, and his heart felt as if it were bursting under Gary's hot touch. A move into the back of the Mormon's throat, feeling the vibrating muscles, proved too much.

"G- Oh fuck, GARY!" he gasped, tugging at the Mormon's hair.

In a rage of passion, he rolled over and pinned Gary down hard, firmly on top of the blond, back in control. Still with a raging boner, he glared into Gary's amused blue eyes.

The blond was not going to disguise his glee. "What was that I just heard?" he panted, knowing he had well and truly lost his power, but didn't care.

Christophe panted, yanking Gary's pants off with force, a rapacious look in his eye. "You 'eard nothing." He thrust his fingers in front of Gary's mouth, a gesture that didn't need any words, but he spoke anyway. "Suck zem," he commanded, complete authority back into his voice. It made Gary's heart jump with excitement and he wanted nothing more than to obey. He took the digits in his mouth, sucking on them one at the time, like they were the most exquisite tasting candy.

Gary gasped and arched his back as Christophe's fingers prodded at his entrance. He felt the familiar sting of intrusion, with that delicious sensation of pleasure an accompaniment. The fingers moved up inside him. He remembered the first time this happened, how his body had shaken violently, how he'd cried, and how as those tears washed away, so did any shame for doing it, because truly, what was wrong with it? If he was fine with it, then who was it hurting? If he was going to partner in a gay affair, he might as well go the distance.

Therefore when Gary felt the prod of Christophe's aching penis at his entrance, he welcomed it with great joy and ecstasy, trembling under the fast thrusts.

He gasped, lacing his fingers into Christophe's hair, as the mercenary gripped his hips tightly, nails digging in. "I, mnnn, Chr-" Gary groaned again, all could do was lie there, arching his hips and moaning in impure heaven. A few hits to his prostate provided a euphoric blankness in his brain.

Christophe could feel himself nearing his edge; he slowed down the thrusts and took Gary's member in his hand, pumping it rapidly, making Gary's body rock up and down, his legs trembling. Gary too felt his orgasm drawing very near, a few more touches were all he needed. Christophe sensed this and let go.

Once again thrusting fast into Gary, and throwing his head back in bliss, he commanded, "Finish eet." It was something that hadn't happened before, but Gary groaned and took his member in his hand, where it was very welcome, finishing himself off. The orgasms were almost instant, happening simultaneously, both boys crying out the name of the other as they spilled their seed.

Gasping and collapsing in a tired sticky mess on the bed, Christophe cleaned up Gary's hand and stomach with a few licks.

Gary buried his head into Christophe's shoulder, kissing the skin softly. "I love you," he whispered. The moment felt right, questioning the sparks and care between them as anything else would have been foolish.

"Dammit, I love you too," replied Christophe, burying his head into Gary's soft hair, cursing the truth.

They both lay in the soft afterglow for a while, falling quiet when they heard the front door open and mingle of animated voices. The shock both felt when they heard the musical tones of a British voice was almost heart stopping. After a few seconds of murmured talking, Gary's dad called up cheerily. "Gary, Gregory arrived when we did! I'll send him up."

Gary stared at Christophe in a haze of panic. "Get in the closet and don't react," he whispered, quickly yanking the door open and pushing the French boy into it, with the bundle of clothes. Gary yanked on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in a matter of seconds, but he still only just managed in time before his bedroom door was thrown open for Gregory's grand entrance.

Gregory fixed his burning hazel eyes on Gary. "Mormon, I want to talk to you." His voice was full of cold anger, not good.

Gary forced a grin to his face, something at one time he wouldn't have had to force. "Hey Gregory, so nice to see you."

Gregory stepped closer, slamming the door behind him. "Oh, quit the fake happy act, and stop acting like you're not terrified by the fact I'm here."

Gary laughed. "Terrified? Why would I be terrified?"

Gregory drew even closer, he was glad of the fact he was taller than Gary, this gave him more of a menacing edge, not that he needed it. He could be very, very intimidating when he wanted to, and Gary really couldn't. His eyes never left Gary's as he spoke the next words. "Tell me something, did you enjoy deceiving me when I most trusted in you?" He grasped the collar of Gary's t-shirt in his hand, holding the other blond very close. "Are you fucking Christophe?" What was the use in beating about the bush?

"Ch-Christophe, I, I... no, why w-would you, why?!"

Gregory could tell by Gary's incomprehensible spluttering that he was indeed fucking Christophe. "Yes you are. Just admit it."

Gary's breath was short, and his head full of fear. "Y-Yes I am."

It hurt Gregory to hear it; it got him in the heart, he may have already thought it, but to hear it made it a reality. "When did it start? Was it that day in the blasted forest, the day you were with him, the day you said you met him again?"

Gary dropped his head, looking as if he was about to cry. "Y-Yes."

Gregory nodded, so it had been going on for quite a while. He kept his composure, letting go of the t-shirt, not lashing out at Gary, not saying anything else about the matter. He wanted nothing else from Gary at that moment. He took a deep breath and then turned, slowly almost peacefully walking towards the door, leaving Gary staring stunned behind him. The very thought that Gregory didn't punch him, not even a slap, was completely shocking; he was half expecting not to have a face by the time Gregory finished.

Gregory paused for a moment as he opened the door, and turned back around to Gary, locking with his light blue eyes. "You're a shit Mormon."

That would hurt Gary more than anything else... for now.


	6. It's a Trap

_A/N: I can't stop accusing people of being 'shit Mormons.'_

* * *

_-Did you think it was wrong? Do you find that it's worse than it was? Has it gone on too long? Do you mind that it hurts me? Because you're breaking my heart-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(I don't know what you want but I can't give it anymore)-_

* * *

_You're a shit Mormon. You're a shit Mormon. _The words had been constantly ringing around his head. _You're a shit Mormon._ It was true, it was so true. Gary couldn't deny it any longer, he couldn't fight his thoughts, couldn't shove them to the back of his mind. He was being a terrible Mormon... He was being a terrible person. Oh God, oh why? Why did he have to feel this way? Because there was no way he would be staying away from his weakness.

He was waiting for Christophe in his room. Yes, Christophe would be there soon, it would all be alright when he arrived. Gary could be held, the position that made it all go away. He needed for it to all go away.

It was hard.

_You're a shit Mormon._

* * *

Christophe was with Gregory, waiting for the moment where Gregory would tell him he knew. Maybe even try to hit him? Christophe would let himself be hit a few times, but he wouldn't let Gregory do anything he'd regret. He still thought Gregory one of the most amazing people he'd ever met, but if he had to make a choice, he just couldn't part from Gary. He was hooked on Gary. But by cheating on Gregory and getting found out, it made everything very difficult.

Christophe was surprised to see that Gregory didn't say anything, he acted as normal as usual, talking, caressing, even kissing. He was expecting to have to break out defence moves when the blond had arrived at his house, not bedroom moves.

Gregory ran his slim fingers up Christophe's chest as they lay on his bed. He sighed. "I love lying here like this with you, Tophe."

Christophe was very wary, how could Gregory mean that when he knew what he'd done? "Mhmm."

"Don't you love it?" whispered Gregory, almost like a song, each word ringing together, marrying perfectly into indescribable tones.

Christophe couldn't deny it. It would look suspicious, and besides it would be a lie. He did love lying with Gregory, holding his perfect form. He didn't know anyone who wouldn't if they had the chance, even if they considered themselves completely straight, it didn't matter when it came to the blond. "I do."

"It's so relaxing and calming, you can just feel all your worries melting away." Gregory's tone was relaxing itself; his words soothed into Christophe, making him feel less on edge. He started to think that maybe the Brit would never say anything, that he would keep things the way they were, a ridiculous thought, but it was a moment when his mind was melting.

"Eet's very comforting, we don't find much time for rest anymore."

The blond's fingers were still exploring Christophe's chest. "We should find more time." He purred the words into his partner's ear.

For Christophe, it was as if he was getting hooked to the voice all over again, his heart was racing and all his worries had left. He ran his hands over Gregory's back, stroking the perfectly smooth skin. Gregory sighed again, trailing from Christophe's ear, to his lips, kissing lightly whilst gently humming. The mixture of the warm lips and beauty of Gregory's voice made Christophe woozy. Damn the blond for still having this effect on him.

He laid underneath his partner, almost powerless, in a trance. He hated feeling like he had no control, but Gregory was an expert in seducing him, before he realised it was happening. Gregory had always been an exception to his power, he thought that the power had moved to Gary, but obviously Gregory still held some. He felt Gregory's lips on his again, and kissed back keenly. He reached his hands slightly backwards and up, to run them through Gregory's hair, but was stopped.

Still kissing, Gregory grabbed Christophe's wrists and pushed his arms further backwards, so they were behind the French boy's head, rather than his own. They were in front of the sturdy railings of the headboard. Gregory gave one last desperate kiss.

It happened in a blur after that. Christophe felt Gregory tear his lips away, rapidly sit up, moving onto his chest and weighing him down. The blond stretched forward, there was a clink of metal, a tight feeling around his wrists, and suddenly he was trapped.

How could he have been so foolish?

"You beetch," he muttered, realising it was Gregory's plan to trap him all along, that's why he'd been so normal, and used his fucking powers of seduction. What a manipulative beautiful bastard.

Gregory was still sat on Christophe's chest, peering down with a dominant smirk on his face. "Well it seems that _you_ were thinking with your dick. Honestly, Tophe, that was too easy. I thought you'd be more of a challenge than that."

"Well why shouldn't I? You're my partner, why shouldn't I 'av been thinking wiz my deek?"

Gregory's face was blank, matter of fact. "I _was_ your partner. We both know that I know about you and Gary, I'm sure he told you as fast as he could."

Christophe smirked. Now, after being trapped, and with the musicality having disappeared from Gregory's voice, he felt nothing but rage towards the Brit. "He didn't need to because I waz zere, in ze closet, 'aving just 'ad sex wiz 'im." Christophe saw stars as he received a hard punch to the jaw. He gritted his teeth, making no sign that he felt pain. He rattled his hands above his head, it was a vain attempt; Gregory had complete control. "Let me go," he commanded hopelessly.

"I don't think so." Gregory traced Christophe's chest beneath him, for what he supposed would be the last time.

"'Ow did you even bring zose 'andcuffs?"

"I just know where you keep yours... or have you forgotten some of our times together?"

That still didn't explain to Christophe how Gregory got hold of them so sneakily, but he supposed the blond was _very_ good at that sort of thing, terrifyingly so. "Something tells me you've not handcuffed me for zat stuff, even zough you're stroking my chest."

Gregory retracted his hands, choosing instead to rest them by his sides. "A clever one aren't you?" Gregory's sarcastic voice was full of resentment. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?"

"WHY DID YOU FUCK GARY? WHY DID YOU CHEAT ON ME!?" he yelled, composure breaking, his seduction act ending. "Is there something wrong with me or do you just enjoy being a bastard?"

Christophe sighed, losing the anger from his face, dropping it from his voice. "Non, you are perfect. You are so beautiful, intelligent, feisty, and so many ozer wonderful things. Plus we work so well togezer, I do really love you. You-" Christophe's words were silenced as he received another punch to the jaw, this one slightly lighter.

"You don't get to say those things anymore," Gregory hissed. "You don't love me. You wouldn't do this if you loved me." His voice was full of bitter hatred, tones that were not soft and alluring, ones that made you fear instead.

Christophe realised that Gregory was probably right. "...I did love you."

It hurt so badly to hear he wasn't loved anymore, but Gregory wasn't going to cry, he would _never_ give Christophe the satisfaction. "Then please explain to me what the hell happened, because I am really having trouble understanding."

"Gary 'appened."

"You threw everything we had away, all our past, all our _future_ for Gary?"

"I'm sorry to say so."

"If you're sorry to say so then why are you saying it, if you _were_ sorry then it wouldn't be true!" Gregory banged his fists down on Christophe's chest, causing Christophe to grunt, winded. The blond continued pummelling the tanned skin until the wave of sudden anger passed. He really hoped that left a fuck load of bruises.

**"**Bon sang, je ne l'ai pas fait exprès!"

Gregory gritted his teeth, eyes ablaze. "Yes you did do this on purpose, of course you did. You knew exactly what you were doing, happy to cheat on me with that _Mormon_." He said the last word with such disgust. "Do you not feel any remorse? Did you want to see me hurting?"

"Gregory, please, I couldn't stop myself, and zen after zat Gary kept invading my mind. I think, I think I must be in love wiz 'im, and I'm sorry zat eet means I'm no longer in love wiz you, and I'm sorry zat I 'ad to cheat on you."

Gregory's face looked calm, there was no narrowed brow and he wasn't frowning, but his eyes gave away his anger. The usual inviting hazel in them had been replaced by dark brown; this wasn't a boy you wanted to move closer to, this was one you wanted to run away from. He couldn't control himself again and slapped Christophe across the face so hard that his hand hurt. The French boy's face was starting to look much worse than it did after any mission. "You didn't have to, you chose to."

Christophe hissed at the sting in his cheek. "I really am sorry," he replied desperately.

"You're not sorry, you're never sorry. You lie, you cheat, and you talk your way out of situations!"

"No, _you_ talk your way out of situations, _I_ fight my way out." Christophe rattled the handcuffs in irritation. "Clearly, I can't do zat right now."

Gregory reached down to his ankle, pulling the trouser leg up slightly to reveal a small knife strapped there, tucked under his sock. He pulled it out and held it up to his face, inspecting the immaculate blade. If there had ever been blood on it, it had been meticulously cleaned free of any trace. "No, clearly you can't."

There was cause for Christophe to panic now. Gregory was hard to read, he could show one emotion and be feeling another, but Christophe didn't think he was prepared to go to such extremes. "W-What are you doing wiz zat?"

"Give me one reason I shouldn't just finish you now."

Christophe's dark green eyes were wide with worry as he squirmed beneath Gregory. He wished Gregory would get angry again, hit him and punch him till he was blue all over, not sit there with a cold calculating look, a much more ominous sign. Gregory had been partially trained to kill and feel nothing; it was part of being Christophe's accomplice, the tactical planner.

"You're better zan zat," he pleaded.

"It's the type of thing you'd do."

"I would never 'arm you like zat." Of all the things he'd said that night, this one was true. Christophe would never even _think_ of killing Gregory, and he had always been sure the blond felt the same way about him, although things had changed... "Besides, you're not me, you're better zan me."

"That's right, I am better than you, Christophe. And if you're going to fuck me around the way you do then there's no more use for you. Seeing you around now will just drag me down." The thought of having to see Gary and Christophe together, while Gregory dealt with his emotions alone was hard.

"You don't let things drag you down."

"No, so I'm going to kill you." He said it so casually. Gregory raised the blade, placing it in front of Christophe neck. He had a serene look on his face, as if entranced by the shiny metal. "Ce serait si facile." He rarely spoke to Christophe in French, and all it did was make the atmosphere darker, the air closing in around them. The mercenary found his heart was pounding and the blood thumping around his head, worsened by the fact he couldn't physically do anything to change his fate. "So easy," whispered Gregory, the blade inches away from skin.

He drifted out of his daze and gazed into Christophe's eyes, he saw fear, he saw sorrow, he saw regret, all deliciously mixed together. He raised his eyebrow. "Why are you so scared?"

Christophe spoke slowly, eyes locked on Gregory. "You are 'olding a knife eenches from my throat with ze intention to keel me."

Gregory looked down at his hand. "Oh yes, so I am," he replied teasingly, as if he'd forgotten. He trailed the knife very softly along the skin of Christophe's neck, just grazing the surface in a way that would cause no harm. The French boy lay completely still beneath him, not even breathing. One wrong move and he really was dead, and damn, he'd never felt so scared.

But it seemed that Gregory had no real intention of killing Christophe, for he soon replaced the knife and slid off him, instead putting his shirt back on and then picking up the mercenary's phone, flicking through the contacts to find Gary. It angered him how his name was next to the Mormon's. He pressed call, holding the phone to his ear and absently licking his lips.

"Hello." Gary sounded cheerful, if it were possible for Gregory to get angrier, that's what would have happened. "Christophe?"

"No, not Christophe I'm afraid," sang Gregory, making it clear through his voice his hatred for the Gary. "He's a little tied up." Gregory laughed callously at his own joke.

The Mormon's tone changed considerably. "G-Gregory what do-"

"Let's cut the small talk, Gary. I think Christophe would appreciate it if you went to his house, the door will be unlocked, and into his bedroom, where he will be waiting for you. I'm sure he'd appreciate you doing it quickly." Gregory hung up the phone and laughed to himself.

He turned and glared at Christophe, an angry glare, one that finally matched the fury in his eyes. "There, have your Mormon, have your fun."

"You're a right beetch worrying him like zat," growled Christophe, finding his voice again. "You stay away from Gary, don't you dare 'urt 'im."

Gregory gazed into the dark green eyes of Christophe. He felt so weak, he'd been broken. He didn't want to hurt the pathetic Mormon, it was never his intention. And looking at Christophe, seeing how defensive he was over Gary, Gregory felt utterly betrayed. Why had he been so cruelly betrayed?

"I'm not the one who's abusing a Mormon. I'm not the one who's wrecking lives."

"I'M NOT ABUSING GARY! ZAT IS ONE THING I'D NEVER DO!"

"Oh but can't you see you are, Christophe. Can't you see it in his eyes, the transformation? I see it now, neither of you know it, but I see it, and it will _destroy_ the both of you, without me having to do a thing."

"You're wrong, you faggot."

Gregory scoffed. "I've been with fewer guys than you, _you_ faggot. I don't go looking for guys they come to me, like you did. You just couldn't keep your grubby hands away."

"You loved it."

"Yes, well, things change. And no, I'm not wrong, I've never been wrong."

Christophe smiled maliciously. "Yes, well, things change."

"Some things never will." From his pocket Gregory pulled out a small metal key. "I don't know why I'm giving you this, just be thankful I am." He walked back over to Christophe. "Open wide."

"Pardon?"

Gregory rolled his eyes. "If you want the key, then open your mouth." The key could have been lined with poison for all Christophe knew, but he had no choice but to obey. Gregory placed the key between Christophe's teeth, the French boy clamped down on it, flinching at the horrible taste. "Don't swallow it, baby," whispered Gregory seductively as he smirked. "You just might choke."

He left Christophe there then, lying helplessly, waiting for his little Mormon to rescue him.

* * *

_A/N: Damn, I hope my French was alright, I know I have awesome French readers._

_So whose side are we on? If anybody's... could be both? This is a Gary and Christophe story so I suppose maybe theirs? But then again, Gregory... is Gregory. _


	7. It's How He Copes

_A/N: I'm glad that nobody has a side, because that's what I was going for. Here comes more mess..._

* * *

_-Since you went away I've been hanging around, I've been wondering why I'm feeling down, you went away, it should make me feel better, but I don't know, oh, how am I gonna' get through?-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(What Have I Done to Deserve This?)-_

* * *

Stan ran his hand through his hair. It had been a whole week until he'd been able to get Gary on his own. Word had spread fast about Christophe and Gregory splitting up. The general rumour was that Gregory had been the one to end it, but no one knew why. This was a relief.

"You're okay?"

Gary nodded. "Yes."

"And Christophe?"

"Fine."

"And Gregory?"

Gary crossed his arms, frowning. "Why would you want to know how _he_ is? He's to blame."

There it was again, a defensive attitude in Gary, making Stan sad. Gary had acted happily all week, laughing and joking as usual, but being alone with Stan and having told him about what had occurred, Gary was angry. The happiness 'act' had been dropped, Stan beginning to think that's all it had been for a while: an 'act.'

Stan was going to be honest. "Well actually, I'd say everybody's to blame."

Gary's eyes burst with rare anger at that comment. "Gregory was the one with a knife to Christophe's throat, threatening to kill him, not me!"

Stan knew he shouldn't, but he laughed. It entertained the mean part of his brain to think of Christophe struggling and frightened beneath the seductive blond. He was shocked at first, but having time to think about it, Gregory played a great game, served Christophe right. Gregory had just gone up in his estimations, that guy really did have everyone exactly where he wanted them. Even though he claimed a strong dislike, Stan could admit that.

Stan rolled his eyes. "I already said he would never have killed him."

"It's Gregory! Who knows what he might have done!"

"Not murder," Stan laughed again, another mean thought sneaking into his brain, "he'd have made it look like suicide."

Gary gritted his teeth. "You joke about that, but how do you know it's not near the truth?"

"Because why would anyone risk so much over one stupid French bastard."

The words cut through Gary like they were designed entirely for him. Stan had known the effect his words would have; he'd had enough of being civil about Christophe: without him there would have been none of this trouble. Stan would still have Gary to himself, and Gregory would be seducing other people, well out of his mind instead of hanging in the back of it.

"Christophe isn't a bastard."

"Really? Because he's definitely acting like one."

"Stan, just whose side are you on here? I always assumed you'd stick by me."

"I am sticking by you, but you're ruining your life! You need to see what you're doing to yourself. Your grades are falling. You're angry. I'm seeing characteristics in you that I never knew were there! I care about you, Gary. I want you to care about yourself!"

"Can't you see that I'm happy, Stan?"

"You're not happy." Stan gazed into Gary's eyes. "You're sad and confused inside."

Gary was on the defensive. "You know nothing!"

"Gary, what happened to you? You would never have said anything like that at one time. No negative thoughts would have filled your brain. You'd have said something like: 'I'm not sad, don't be silly. Let's go get ice cream for the children in the hospital.'" It made Stan sad, he wanted so desperately to fix Gary, turn him back into person he used to be. He worried that it may never happen now. What if Gary was changing permanently? Stan pleaded with him. "Leave him."

"Never."

And with that, Stan and Gary's conversation terminated.

* * *

Stan picked up his phone, opened a template, and typed a message to his best friend. Staring out of the window at his house, he knew he should have just gone over to Kyle's already, but he couldn't summon up the energy, not after fighting with Gary.

**(16:41) How's the project going?**

The reply was almost instant.

**(16:42) It would be going a lot better if my partner actually helped me out.**

Stan felt guilty. He debated what to reply with. The truth? He'd have to tell that directly to Kyle's face at a more suitable time.

**(16:44) Sry.**

**(16:45) Come over now and we'll do it.**

Now wasn't the time, and Kyle was certain to throw relentless questions at him. All Stan wanted was to forget Gary with some kind of output, or talk to someone who understood, though there was no one around.

**(16:47) I can't, sry.**

**(16:48) O.K, but this isn't being dropped until you explain. I'll just do it and write your name on.**

Stan felt sometimes that he didn't deserve a best friend as nice as Kyle, not when he was keeping secrets and getting involved in something he should probably steer clear of. Why couldn't he just have developed feelings for Kyle instead of Gary? It would have been a lot easier, Kyle wasn't slowly changing, and Stan didn't feel that Kyle needed help. The red-head had it all under control. In fact why couldn't Stan have just fallen in love with a girl?_ That_ would have been easier.

**(16:50) Thanks. I owe you. **

**(16:52) Chocolate.**

And that was why Stan kept a bar of diabetic chocolate safely hidden in his bag.

As he continued staring out the window, his eyes lit up as a certain person walked slowly past, staring straight ahead, and almost forcing their feet to keep going forward. Stan realised that he hadn't seen this person for the past week; they had obviously chosen to skip school, which was so out of character that with the new knowledge he'd acquired, it made Stan grab his coat from its hook and race out of the front door.

* * *

"I brought some banana bread!" Gary's voice chimed at its usual cheerful volume as he entered the room of his favourite person in the South Park retirement home. Volunteering there had always brought him joy; he loved nothing more than listening to the stories and tales the patients there had to tell in abundance, so many of them were lonely, left with no one to listen. Gary didn't think it was much to ask that he took a small amount of time out of his week to share a cup of tea and a joke. Though, he wasn't much in the mood for joking.

"Oh my favourite! Such a good boy," replied the elderly lady. Her white hair was always kept on the top of her head in a neat bun, as it had been in her youth as a secretary. She'd taken a shining to the blond Mormon, who never used to fail to bring some sunshine into her life, a life ignored by everyone else.

"It's no problem, Dee! Mom will take any excuse to bake." Gary smiled kindly, though it was missing in his eyes.

"I really love getting visits from you, dear. It feels like it's been a while."

Gary dropped into an arm-chair and looked apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you have a reason."

Dee picked up the teapot from the centre of her small coffee table, and poured two cups. Gary added the milk and sugar the way they liked it. "Not a good enough one," he mumbled.

"Why don't you tell me and I can be the judge?"

"I don't want to worry you with my problems. You don't want to hear it. It's way too messed up."

"I've been on the earth for eighty-eight years. My husband was a marine; my brother was an ex-con who ran away with his parole officer. There's not much you can tell me that will shock me. I promise I won't judge, or act like it doesn't matter because you're young."

Gary sighed. His need to talk about his problems with someone who wasn't involved in some way, with someone who knew none of the people involved, proved too great. "I'm in love, Dee, and it's with the wrong person. It was a dangerous affair and it's ended in heart-break... but not for me, and I think that's what makes it work." Gary looked at the old lady gravely. "I'm in a serious relationship with a guy, and apparently it's making me change." He didn't realise how easy it was to tell someone.

Dee always had her suspicions. "Is this that Stan boy you always talked about?"

Gary shook his head. "No, it's not Stan. I only wish it was a simple as Stan. His name is Christophe."

"And you fell in love with this already taken boy?" Dee asked the question sympathetically.

"Yep, and slept with him repeatedly, ultimately leading to him getting found out and being beaten by his now ex."

It shocked Dee to hear this, she'd always considered Gary a devout Mormon, one who even at the idea of sex so young would freak out. But then again, he was young, it was love. "Are _you_ alright?"

"His ex- Gregory has been nowhere near me since then. Gregory isn't a naturally violent person really. I'm wrong in saying he's to blame. He's not the one to blame, _I _am. It's _my _entire fault. Gregory would never seriously hurt Christophe."

"This isn't Gregory Williams by any chance is it? Angelic, breathtaking face, slim perfectly balanced features, stunning voice." Dee spoke the words fondly but knowingly. "Gets boys and girls alike wrapped around his little finger."

Gary almost snapped his neck, staring at Dee in shock. "You know him?"

"He used to come and sing to us when he was younger, such a charming boy, and so much charisma. He visits his great-aunt from time to time. I would never imagine him doing something to hurt anybody." She remembered the look he would sometimes get in his eyes, the way he took in and analyzed everyone in any room. "Though he did have that spark."

"Yeah that's him, he's amazing all right, and so beautiful it almost makes me cry. Why Christophe ever saw interest in me when he had _him_ around, I really don't understand." Gary sighed again, eyes drooping, face sickly pale. "And now Christophe's stuck with me."

Dee was startled at the Mormon's view on things. "Stuck with you? It sounds like this Christophe wouldn't choose to be 'stuck with' anyone. It sounds like he goes after what he wants and _gets_ it. I'm sure he was always destined to leave Gregory in one way or another."

"Maybe, maybe not, but not like this." He gazed into the comforting eyes of Dee, a third Grandma, and someone who would understand more than his other Grandmas. "Are you not mad with what I've done?"

"No, it's not my place, I promised to listen, besides, I understand. There aren't many people in this world who haven't done something they regret to get something they desperately wanted. I don't think it right that Gregory was hurt, but let's put him aside as another problem shall we?"

"So can you see how sinful I'm being?"

"I don't necessarily believe you're being sinful."

"What?"

Dee reached her hand out to Gary, and the blond took it, gripping as tight as he thought she could handle. "Boy, what does your heart tell you?"

The answer to that one was easy. "My heart tells me it's right."

"Then maybe you should follow your heart. Has it ever steered you wrong in the past?"

"What do you mean?"

"All the volunteer work you do, why that comes from the heart. You make me happy to be alive with your positive energy; you listen to my stories and divulge your own because of your love of helping, taking pleasure in other people's pleasure. When you stop to talk to people in trouble, or just to check if they're having a nice day, it comes from the heart. When you smile with those toothpaste advert pearly whites, and mean it, it comes from the heart. So, if you truly love this boy with all your heart, how could it be wrong?"

Gary's heart leapt and a genuine smile crept onto his face.

"There's the smile," said Dee, patting him on the hand. "Don't lose it."

"But what about my religion, Dee, it doesn't agree with my heart."

"If you have to pick between your religion and your heart, maybe one of them doesn't have it quite right."

Gary's face dropped. "I have to choose?"

"I think it depends how you define what you read in the bible and that Mormon book you have. Your family has always been _strict_ Mormons. Maybe there's a way you can have both?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure how compatible they are."

"Well there's one thing I know for sure, something needs to change, because I want to see the old Gary back. I miss him."

Gary sighed. "I miss him too."

* * *

Gregory knew that Stan was following him. Stan knew that Gregory knew, but they both continued walking at a distance apart.

Gregory led Stan to his house, where he stood by the edge of his garden pond, gazing at his frightful reflection on the clear icy surface. There had been a significant change in Gregory over the past week. An over-confident persona could only disguise the true hurt beneath for so long, and Gregory was hurting. He continued staring at the pond, not making eye contact with Stan as he arrived next to him.

"When I was younger I was told by my uncle that ponds froze all the way through, I used to wonder what happened to the fish. Would they just be frozen in place until summer?" said Stan, in a soft voice. "Then I realised that only the top layer of the pond froze, life still went on underneath. It always carried on even though everything was so... cold and hard."

"I wish that I could get frozen in the pond, long enough for Gary and Christophe to fall apart, and then things could go back to normal." Gregory's voice was so faint, holding none of its usual power.

"Would you really want Christophe back?"

"I don't know, maybe. Maybe he's my weakness; whatever he does I'll forgive him eventually."

What the fuck did everyone see in the French guy? "You shouldn't forgive him. You should find someone else better."

Gregory turned to Stan with tired hazel eyes, dark rings under them prominent on his pale face. He sighed and beckoned for Stan to follow him, into his house and the warmth. "Why are you here, Stan?" he asked as he unlocked the front door and they both stepped inside, knocking snow boots.

"I don't know," admitted Stan honestly. "I guess I saw how distressed and different you've looked this week and thought maybe I should check on you."

Gregory sighed again. "But you hate me."

"I couldn't hate you, not seeing you this hurt."

He scoffed. "How sweet, someone who actually cares."

"Why aren't you kicking me out then, if _you_ hate me?"

Gregory's eyes gave away a faint trace of hurt from that comment. "I've never hated you," he whispered. "You're the one that held a terrible grudge about Wendy, even though I never did anything."

Well that made Stan feel like shit. "I'm sorry."

Gregory knew that Stan's apologies were always sincere; it was strange to get one though. He decided to continue talking about the two boys that seemed to have brought the two foes together. "That night at Gary's, you knew exactly what was going on, yet you were still dressed up to see him. Even though you knew you stood no chance of being anything more than friends. Why? How can you face him without feeling heartbreak?"

"I wanted to show him a good time, a simpler one." Stan dropped his head. "Besides, I couldn't stand to lose him. That would be worse."

"Why haven't you told him how you feel?"

"Because then I'd lose him. He doesn't like me like that."

"So that's worth the heartbreak?"

"I'm not the main concern here." Stan raised his voice. "The main concern is that Christophe is destroying Gary!"

"The Mormon fucking asked for it! Christophe isn't a monster. If it was clear that Gary didn't want it, he wouldn't have done anything." Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Gary is not a fucking innocent victim. Christophe may be destroying Gary, but I think Gary's destroying him too."

"What do you mean?"

"He's never let anything distract him like that before. It's dangerous with what he does. He could get himself killed." Gregory ran his hand through his blond hair, which was not sporting its usual style, it was wavier and more around his face, like he hadn't even bothered to blow dry it, let alone finish it with products. "I've never seen him get so worked up over someone."

"Surely... you?"

Gregory laughed resentfully. "He never ever paid that kind of attention to me."

"To you?! Of course he did!" Stan eyed the Brit. Just look at you, he thought, who wouldn't?

"No, he didn't, he wasn't obsessed to touch me the way it seems he is with Gary. This it, the end of everything. I've lost Christophe, and you are _never_ going to get the Mormon." His words were said with such broken fury, as if before that moment he may have planned on waiting for everything in the French boy's life to fall apart, and then taking him back.

Stan pinched his nose and shut his eyes, he seemed in pain, he seemed like he was breaking. "That's not right. Christophe shouldn't be what Gary wants. G-Gary shouldn't want him. It's not right... it's wrong."

"You like the Mormon this much? What do _you_ want?" asked the Brit. They'd drawn closer, Gregory was panting heavily, a single tear had rolled down and set on his face. He looked into Stan's glistening, caring blue eyes, eyes that held no fury. Any anger Stan held was not deep and dangerous, it was always worn on the surface, and there was none in that moment, Stan's eyes were burst with distress.

"Well, _I_ want Gary. I want what that fucking French bastard has."

"You need to forget about Gary, there are other people in this world. Better people, ones that don't cheat, ones that get cheated on and broken instead." The message Gregory was trying to get across in his words was not quite being received by Stan. "They're the ones that need the attention, the healing touch of a caring person." He leaned close to Stan, inhaling his cologne, causing a small skip in the heart he was sure had been broken. Gregory had no idea why he was doing it; he guessed he just wanted that warm feeling, something that would help him forget for a while. "You're a caring person, Stan."

Stan took in Gregory's sweet smelling scent. It invaded his nostrils and dizzied his head. "I-I am?"

Gregory nodded, stroking Stan's face lightly, the contact sent shivers through him. "You want what the French bastard has, why not what he _had_ instead."

Stan was breathing fast. "W-what do you mean?"

"What do you need, Stan?" Gregory's voice fell soft, captivating, song-like...

Stan noticed the hungry look in Gregory's burning hazel eyes, on some odd reflex he pulled the blond closer. "I need to stop thinking about all this. I just wish I could turn my brain off for a bit."

Gregory draped his arms over Stan's shoulders, pulling himself close with a gasp, taking in the heat. "So do I."

Stan's words came out shaky. "D-do you know a way we could do that?"

A teasing smile played across Gregory's face as he inched it towards Stan's, satisfied that he didn't need to look his normal glowing, immaculate self to get this attention from Stan. But then, he supposed he still looked very good. "I just might." Gregory brushed his lips across Stan's jaw, and then gracefully dropped down onto his knees in a single fluid, tantalizing movement.

As he unzipped Stan's jeans, taking the member he found there out in his hand and beginning to work on it, he found that he could switch his brain off, at least for a little while.

Stan was hesitant to touch Gregory, maybe this is what he'd always followed the blond for, but he didn't want to dare wreck anything, meddle with the blond's appearance. However Gregory desperately encouraged him, he wouldn't break, and he may even heal a little bit. Although the likelihood of that, he considered slim. Stan laced his fingers through the blond's hair, heart thumping fast, both shocked and aroused. His body ached with pleasure as they continued. Gregory sighed at the feel of Stan's hands on his pale skin and the warmth when they entered him.

Turning his brain off, he just wanted a lover to help ease his broken heart.


	8. It's Getting Better?

_-If people say I'm crazy, I tell 'em that it's true. Let them watch with amazement. Say it won't last beyond breakfast. It's a phase he's going through. Denigrate or speculate on what I'm going through. Because it isn't the sort of thing I normally do-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thing)-_

* * *

Gregory appreciated the company but sitting with Damien was sending his head spinning with frustration. He glared at Damien taking a long drag on his cigarette. The blond hadn't touched the things since his break-up. Stupid, stupid things. They tasted horrible, they smelt horrible. Why would anyone want to waste their life smoking the damn things? Fuck everyone who did, seriously. He didn't miss them, not one bit.

Damien tipped his head back and exhaled slowly, smoke rising in a perfect straight line above him. "I'm not going to stop smoking them just because they remind you of Frenchy you know?" He turned to Gregory lazily, deliberately blowing the rest of the smoke towards him.

Gregory gave him a piercing stare, wafting the smoke away with his hand. "I never asked you to."

"You don't need to say a word. I can see it in your eyes."

"Can you also see how much you're annoying me?"

"Yeah, but you need someone around you right now, blondie."

Gregory tipped his nose up, folding his arms. "No I don't, I'm fine on my own."

"Oh really? Because by the sound of it you're either in your lessons, with me or with your new 'fuck buddy."

Gregory tried to ignore the truth Damien's words held. "I'm alone at night."

"You sleep at night."

"I... _try_ to sleep at night."

"I've offered to sleep with you?"

"And I've told you that I can take care of myself. I don't need someone next to me in my bed to get to sleep. I prefer to be on my own. Even with Christophe I never slept with him, just _slept_ with him."

"Right, that makes perfect sense."

Gregory continued to glare at Damien. "You know it does." He shook his head, running a hand over his neatly made hair. He was back to taking pride in his appearance; immaculate hair was a necessity, just as perfect clothes were. Yet, he couldn't get his skin to glow, it had gone lifeless and he had dark circles under his eyes which he just detested. "Besides, I'd swelter if I slept next to you. Body temperature wise you're too hot."

Damien grinned smugly. "Thank you."

Gregory rolled his eyes. "Fucking self-satisfied bastard," he muttered, "go murder some puppies or something."

Damien looked appalled. "I would never murder puppies. They're such bright and bubbly bundles of fun. Though, I prefer kittens, it's just... the whiskers are too cute."

"Some demon you are."

Gregory's day cheered up considerably when he saw Stan walking towards them. He stood up and almost skipped over to the Jock. "Good afternoon, blue eyes." Gregory ran his hand over Stan's face. The feel of the blond's fingers seemed to stay with Stan long after the physical contact ended, making his cheek tingle, and a slight tinge to appear on it.

"Hey."

"Want to fuck?" They had a 'session' booked.

Stan smiled. "What do you think?"

"Oh I think I can guess the answer."

Gregory and Stan had actually become friendly to each other over the month they'd been secretly meeting up, realising that they quite enjoyed spending time together. It was always simple and peaceful. It was mainly sex, but they did do a fair amount of talking, even joking about Stan's jealousy regarding Wendy.

Damien chuckled at the both of them, going previously unnoticed by Stan. "So this is your infamous lover, the one who 'so warmly makes you forget Christophe for a while.'" Damien was entertained by Stan's almost fearful reaction, like he was about to run away. "Don't worry Marsh, I won't bite you. I was just keeping blondie company."

"I-I thought you were Christophe's friend?"

"I don't have preferences." Damien licked his lips, eyes probing over Gregory. "I would have been your fuck buddy instead of a simple Jock."

Gregory rested his hands on his hips. "You're not gay."

Damien followed Gregory's movements with his eyes, grinning. "Don't have to be gay to appreciate _you_."

"I want Stan."

Damien turned to the boy in question. "Awww, hear that Jock? Blondie fancies you. That puts a new spin on what you're doing."

Gregory blushed slightly at this. "Come on, Stan, let's go back to mine." It wasn't that he was either confirming or denying Damien's statement. It would have been nice to develop a crush on Stan, he was certainly spending enough time with him, and Stan was certainly good enough to like: athletic, thoughtful, kind, and surprisingly good in bed. The truth was Gregory didn't know where his feelings were. The anger had gone, the sadness remained. As much as he tried, he couldn't fully get over Christophe. He could write lists and lists of faults, but those few admirable qualities kept him hooked.

Stan was hesitant to go with Gregory at that. "What about-uh." He glanced over at Damien and then back to Gregory. "_Do_ you have feelings for me?"

The blond pulled him to the side, away from Damien's sharp ears. He tone was soft with the Jock; it was always soft around Stan. "Would there be a problem if I did have feelings for you?"

"It just makes things more complicated."

"Do you not have feelings for me?" Gregory asked in a way that Stan shouldn't feel any pressure to answer with anything other than the truth.

Stan's blush gave him away. "I mean, yeah, a few. You're very attractive and I'm learning more about you, good things, and ones that make me want to spend time with you, which are good, because I _do_ want to spend time with you."

Gregory took Stan's warm hands in his. He was growing attached to them. They had proved to hold a healing quality, always gentle, knowing what he needed, wanting to give it. He smiled sadly at Stan. "But you're still in love with the Mormon."

"And you're still in love with Christophe."

"...Perhaps it's time to let go."

Stan's face had gone a bright shade of red. Could it be that his life was about to get a lot simpler? Or was it that everything was going to get ridiculously harder? Only time would tell, and he had a feeling that time would send his heart hurtling, as always, in the direction of a blond. He squeezed Gregory's hands, smiling fondly; the light in the blond's eyes spurring his heart on. "Perhaps it is."

"If you'd like, instead of going to mine for _that_, we could go out for dinner later... perhaps?" Gregory was feeling slightly nervous, unusual for him. Even scaling tall buildings, nerves had never played a part in his emotions. He was suddenly very wary of Stan's answer.

"You mean like on a date?"

"If you want to call it that."

Stan smiled playfully. "You do dates?"

"Not usually, but I could make an exception for you. You've provided a lot of comfort over the past month. And now I think about it, I want to try being with you in a way that doesn't just revolve around sex."

"But that was our deal." They'd made the deal a few days after the first time. Gregory had found that being with Stan really did help him forget about Christophe, and that had been a much-needed thing. He knew that eventually time would have let him heal without Stan, but having someone just close to him for a while was better than being alone. He hated being alone nearly as much as he hated getting his heart-broken.

Gregory made a grand gesture then, both with his hands and words. "I'm breaking our deal. If you want me then woo me."

Stan found himself rather taken with this turn of events. "Okay then, let's do dinner."

Gregory smiled. "We can't skimp on the food though; I hate all that chain crap. Anything that can be replicated in bulk across the country is not food whatever the brainless Americans say." He looked at Stan's amused face. "No offence. Though I should hope you realise that although you're American, you're not brainless."

"The new Italian that has opened?"

Gregory rolled his eyes. "I suppose it will have to do, it does about all South Park can manage."

"Not a fan of Italian food? I can tell you're not going to be an easy date to please."

"Oh, you'll find that if you let yourself, you'll enjoy trying to please me." Gregory kissed the tips of his own fingers and touched them to Stan's cheek before walking off alone to his house.

"I'll pick you up at seven?" Stan called after him, wide smile involuntarily plastered on his face.

Gregory's voice floated back, caressing his ears with its magical tones. "You do that."

Stan sighed, noticing the fluttering which had crept into his heart.

Damien had crept up behind him. "I'm very impressed, _blue eyes_."

Stan turned around, puzzled, too happy to be scared. "Impressed?"

"In all the years I've known blondie he has never once been the one to initiate a date. In fact he waits until people beg him before he even considers it. Even Christophe had to make a 'grand gesture.'" Damien did a mock impersonation of Gregory's arm movement.

"That's absurd. Why should I be so special?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, keep it up. If he gets over his heartbreak then damn, you're going to want to be around. _Big_ if though, he really did love Christophe... _does_ love Christophe. The heart of a perfectionist doesn't mend easily."

"I know... Have you spoken to Christophe and Gary recently?"

"Not really. I'm sure we can all understand the fact the Mormon doesn't much like being with me."

"Good point."

* * *

At that moment, the Mormon was dealing with another situation, quite different from having to be around Damien.

Christophe screamed, sweat running down his face. "Fuck!" he cried out, "Fuck, Gary, zat 'urts." Christophe glared at the source of the pain, two annoyingly bright eyes staring back at him. It was always the gentle ones; they were the ones you had to watch out for.

Gary picked up the dog Christophe was shooting down with his eyes and cradled it in his arms, laughing. "I'm sure he wouldn't have bitten you without a very good reason." The dog barked softly and licked Gary's nose.

"You're glad zat he bit me?"

Gary raised his eyebrow. "It probably serves you right. What did you do?"

"I just told 'im to leave me alone. Eet kept barking at me, zen when I tried to give eet some food, eet bit me. Fucking dogs, I 'ate dogs."

"When did you eat dogs? Don't eat dogs; they're man's best friend."

Christophe glared at Gary, who responded with another amused laugh. "Don't make fun of my accent, beetch, or are you really asking for eet?"

"I'm holding a small dog, you can't give it." Gary was looking after it for a friend. He hadn't expected Christophe to freak out when he came over, and it proved hilarious to watch. It was only a Dachshund. Gary thought it was just guard dogs Christophe didn't like; he was wrong.

"Put ze dog down."

"No."

"Gary, step away from ze dog now!"

Gary took the Dachshund closer to the French boy, holding it up. "Look at his innocent little face Christophe. How can you not love it?"

But at that comment Christophe wasn't looking at the dog's face, he was looking at Gary's, which was full of life and happiness. A month could do a lot of things, not only could it start to mend a broken heart, it could help clear someone's head, sort out what they really wanted. Gary was starting to see the links between what both his religion and his heart wanted him to do, they weren't mutually exclusive. Now that Christophe was no longer with Gregory, things were starting to look better. The guilt hadn't been taken away, but it had been halved considerably. He was starting to look past what he had done and instead at what he was doing.

His grades were improving, he had visited Dee twice a week, and he'd been down to the homeless shelter with his parents, even convinced Christophe to be _nice_ during one of their family home evenings. On the other hand, he was still having sex and felt a twinge of sadness every time he saw the still hurt look in Gregory's face. It was a balancing act, and he was getting there, but something still didn't feel right.

He was communicating with Stan when they were in a group, but the moment they ended up alone, they would split ways. And there was something different about Stan... something Gary couldn't quite put his finger on...

"'Ello, beetch. Come in Gary."

Gary snapped back to reality.

Christophe looked concerned. "I think ze dog wants to be put down now." Gary quickly lowered the dachshund to the floor, where to his amusement it ran straight over to Christophe, barking at his feet. Christophe stepped cautiously around the animal, closing the gap between him and the blond. He wrapped his arms around Gary's waist. "Are you alright?" The dog ran out of the kitchen to the living room, where it stretched out on the rug and shut its eyes.

"Yes," replied Gary with a smile. He laced his fingers around the back of Christophe's neck. "I was just thinking about how much I love you."

"Zat is an excellent thing to think about." Christophe pulled their lips together, brushing his hands slowly up and down Gary's back.

"Let's see that bite?" asked Gary, smiling helpfully and kissing Christophe again.

"Forget ze bite," muttered Christophe deepening the kiss, tugging on the bottom of Gary's shirt whilst gracing his fingers over Gary's crotch.

"Christophe, no," whispered Gary, "we're in the kitchen."

The French boy began to undo the shirt, smiling playfully as Gary's face flushed with colour. "Oui, please give me a tasty treat."

Gary's breath became heavier, his heart fluttering in the way that stopped him from hitting away Christophe's hands though he was aware he shouldn't be messing around in the kitchen. "N-no it's unsanitary."

"Eet's very _dirty_." Christophe purred the words into Gary's ear, shirt now completely undone and on the floor. He practically picked Gary up and backed him over to the worktop, placing him sitting on top. He bent his head forward attacking Gary's chest with his mouth, kissing the pale skin he got so much enjoyment from, starting and the bottom and moving his way up towards Gary's mouth as the Mormon stifled groans. He reached the nipples, swirling his tongue over each one in turn, biting down to cause Gary a delicious gasp of shock.

Gary's face was red and his breath had taken on an irregular rhythm. "I-I-uh-meant it when I said n-no. N-not in the kitchen." He cringed at the movement in his pants, growing hard at the thought of such an open space, one his family could walk into any minute.

Ignoring Gary's words, Christophe hastily pulled off the Mormon's bottom layers, exposing the mouth-watering sight to the kitchen air. "Zough your deek eet disagrees, non?" He took it in his hand and began stroking excruciatingly slowly, trailing his finger with such controlled denial over the slit. Attaching his lips to Gary's again, he let go of the member and jammed his tongue down the Mormon's throat instead.

Gary banged his legs in protest against the counter.

Christophe pulled away. "I'm sorry, I'll stop."

Gary's eyes opened wide in panic. "N-no I need you to- I c-can't, you have to..."

Christophe grinned knowing what his partner meant. He lowered his head, wrapping his mouth around the Mormon's fully erect and throbbing member. Gary groaned in relief, leaning back on his elbows, well aware he was almost in the sink. He could feel the cold wet metal against his skin, it stung, but in a good way. Christophe began vigorously bobbing his head up and down, drawing moans of ecstasy from the blond. He could easily take Gary deep in the back of his throat, providing the utmost pleasure.

Gary gasped. The very thought of what they were doing and where they were doing it was increasing the pumping he felt around his body. Blood loud in his eardrums and unable to see, not holding out long, he shot his load into Christophe's awaiting mouth.

Christophe grinned, swallowing the seed and licking his lips. "Mmm zat _was_ a tasty treat."

Gary panted wrapping his legs around Christophe's waist as he was lifted off the counter. Christophe supported his weight, holding him in mid-air and desperately kissing him. Gary was flustered and sweaty, and so ready for more. He whispered in Christophe's ear, urging him upstairs.

Christophe wasn't listening; as Gary's lips had left his own he'd opened his eyes to see the majority of the Harrison family staring back at him.

* * *

Gregory was glowing.

"Thank you for walking me home, Stan. And for letting me wear your Letterman jacket which is such a completely clichéd thing to do, but I surprisingly enjoyed the sentiment. I feel like someone's date in a high school movie, so... American. Perhaps not everything American is bad. You certainly turned out to be a winning date. I thoroughly enjoyed this evening, even the food at that ghastly Italian was _edible_, but I'd appreciate it if my olive bread actually contained olives. The olives weren't important though, being with you is what mattered." Gregory smiled as he finally drew breath.

Stan mesmerised by the blond's voice, captivated by everything he was saying, almost forgot to reply. It didn't really matter at that moment; Gregory seemed more than happy to do the talking for the both of them. The evening had proved a success, both in keeping Gregory cheerful and in the attraction they were feeling for each other. Stan reached out beside him to take his companion's hand. "It was my pleasure."

Gregory rolled his eyes. "Yet another clichéd action. Let's write a soppy romance novel." He held onto Stan's hand too though.

"Oh I don't think the story of any of your romances would be soppy."

"No, I don't suppose they would."

They reached the blond's door, where they stopped and Gregory pulled out his key with a teasing grin. "You know, my parents are out-of-town at the moment. They're away rather a lot actually."

"Why?"

"Business meetings? Possibly to do with..." Gregory strained his brain. "I have no idea to be honest. Gosh, would it seem awfully slutty and further clichéd of me if I invited you in for_ coffee?"_

Stan winked. "Yes."

"In that case would you like to come in for... _tea_?"

Stan graced his fingers over Gregory's hip. "I would love to."

Once inside Stan took Gregory's face in his hands, delivering a kiss on the lips, their first proper kiss. It warmed through Gregory's body; almost seeking out the pain is his heart, the slight ache in his head and banishing them as it grew deeper. Gregory found himself utterly lost in the soothing easiness of the moment as his body melted into Stan's, pressing close. He closed his eyes and felt the overwhelming sting of tears.

Stan caressed Gregory's face, whispering softly in his ear. "What's the matter? Don't cry."

Gregory hooked his hands tightly around the Jock's neck, blond hair resting on his strong but soft chest. He knew he was being uncharacteristic, and showing his vulnerable side which he didn't like to, but he felt so protected, and though he could take care of himself, it helped. "I'm crying because I'm happy... happy to be here with you, and I'm sad that it can't be simple, it has to start complicated."

Stan smiled reassuringly, drying the blond's tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "As long as something has started, then the rest we'll get through _together_."

"Let's hope so."

* * *

_A/N: I am going to get this finished in 2 or 3 more chapters. I never intended it to be more than 8, but I can't end it here. Not when the plan is to get all 4 of them in the same place at the same time. Please leave a review if it's not too much trouble. _


	9. It's Not

-Too many shadows, whispering voices. Faces on posters, too many choices. If, when, why, what? How much have you got? Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often? And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(West End Girls)-

* * *

Stan was doing it, finally telling the truth to Kyle, finally admitting to the changes in his life. He couldn't keep the secrets any longer. Since things were getting better, it was a good time. And things were getting better weren't they? They were sat in Kyle's bedroom; video game paused by Stan. It was a bold move in the middle of a shooting game, one which meant one of two things: 'Dude, I need the toilet, I can't hold it in any longer,' or, 'Dude, shooting people has put me in the right frame of mind to tell you something important.'

Stan took a deep breath; it was of course the latter. He turned to Kyle. "That thing I promised to tell you? It was G-Gary... I was in love with Gary." Kyle didn't even blink at this; no change of emotion came to his face. "You're not shocked?"

Kyle patted Stan on the back. "Stan, it was obvious. You're not the best at hiding things. I think you may even have told me one night when you were drunk." Kyle smiled. "Is that all? Because that's hardly something to get this worked up about."

"That's only the beginning, dude."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "You're not in a relationship with him are you?"

"No... He's in love with Christophe DeLorne. That's why Christophe and Gregory broke up, because they were having an affair."

Kyle's eyes opened wide with shock. "Gary was... with Christophe?!" Stan nodded. "Oh my God!"

"Yeah, but here comes the clincher. Gregory, broken-hearted, seeking comfort, had sex... with me."

Kyle fell off his chair. "FUCK!" he yelled, scrabbling up to stare at Stan. "You've been with Gregory! You! Gregory! Not him!" His face was red. "I don't... I can't..."

Stan tried to help out Kyle's shock by adding more details. "Well it's sort of an ongoing thing. I've been having sex with him often, and I thought it was to try to keep away the pain of seeing Christophe and Gary together, but..."

Kyle's brow furrowed. "But what?"

"I have feelings for him." In the long run how could Gregory not have gotten into Stan's heart? His fragile side highlighted a vulnerable delicateness that once attached you couldn't leave. You wanted to help cure him, get him back on that invisible podium he once proudly stood on. He needed to be on that podium. "I think we may even be a couple." Stan wasn't completely sure on that one, they'd never discussed it.

Kyle lowered his voice. "Stan, Gregory will chew you up and spit you out."

"Actually he swallows."

Kyle's face went red again, angry red. "I'm being serious. You need to get away from all of this."

Away? What was Kyle talking about? He couldn't leave Gregory. He couldn't leave the one thing that was finally making life not suck so hard. "...No."

"If you don't get out of this, then I don't see it ending well for you."

Fuck, what did Kyle know? He didn't know what was going on, or what Stan was feeling. He couldn't see into Gregory's mind and know what he was planning (Stan was sure he was planning nothing). "You need to give Gregory more credit. He's not what everybody says he is." Stan was fixing Gregory, not the other way round. Gregory was not destroying him.

Kyle was getting exasperated. "You were the one that said those things!"

"Well I was wrong. I didn't think I could get over Gary, but recently I really haven't been seeing him in the same way. I close my eyes and I see hazel, not blue."

"Stan, can't you see how insane you sound!" Kyle looked around the room as if pleading someone to appear and set his friend straight. "This is insane."

"Kyle please, nothing bad is going to happen. Everything's getting better."

Kyle's tone reflected that he'd given up trying to talk to Stan. He was still having trouble processing what he was hearing. "That's it, I'm not getting involved. You got into the mess, you get yourself out."

Reasoning didn't seem to be working. "Kyle, there is no mess."

* * *

They were due to meet at Stark's pond. Stan arrived and saw Gregory already there, sitting with his legs straight out in front of him on a bench, reading a book Stan had never heard of, nor by the looks of it did he want to. It had a Latin name and looked like it had enough weight to crack a turtle. Gregory placed it back in his leather satchel as Stan approached him, standing up and smiling, arms outstretched. Stan's arms fell around Gregory, face pressing into his hair. The hair _smelt_ gorgeous, a mixture of a whole load of genius products. You'd have thought Gregory's hair must have been stiff but it wasn't at all, it was soft and... amazing.

"Good afternoon, Stan."

Stan sighed. "It just got better seeing you."

"Did it not go so well with Kyle?" Gregory's tone was one of concern. He leaned back to gaze into Stan's sparkling blue eyes.

"He thinks the whole thing is insane."

"Well... it is, we're supposed to be enemies. But I often have the view that insane is better than normal. I need that view otherwise I'd look down upon myself." Gregory smirked. "Could you imagine me looking down on myself?"

"A hard thing to do indeed." Stan brushed over Gregory's cheek with his hand, moving it down to cup the blond's chin. He pulled Gregory's lips towards his and closed his eyes. The kiss, as always, was warming and peaceful. It was such a transformation, the person that used to make him angry and annoyed now made him calm and happy. The moments they spent together weren't fuelled by hate, but something else, in one way not entirely dissimilar, but in another way completely the opposite.

Stan asked the question that had been on his mind and their lips momentarily parted. "What are _we_?"

Gregory trailed his lips lightly over Stan's, grinning to himself. "What do you want us to be?"

"I want us to be together."

"Then we are, baby." Stan felt his heart flip as Gregory pounced on him, pushing him to the floor in a moment of lust. It was powered by the feeling in the blond's heart hearing Stan say those words, and the ease with which he agreed.

Stan groaned as Gregory attacked his neck, pulling both of their coats off for better access. Stan felt Gregory's hands pushing up under his t-shirt and stroking his chest. He grabbed the back of the blond's neck and pulled him into a kiss. Gregory straddled on top of him, thighs either side of his hips, bending down for that delicious kiss. Stan felt the warmth spreading through his body. He loved the way Gregory made him feel, like there wasn't a worry in the world, like Gregory was the only thing that mattered. It overpowered everything else until all his senses were awash with the breathtaking blond.

Gregory's hands were getting deeper on his body, pressing in to sensitive areas with a seductively hard pressure. Stan was becoming aroused. Were they really going to do it outside? Alfresco sex? It seemed at that moment they were. So Stan went along with it, because they excitement in his body was building too much to leave any other option. He rolled Gregory over, chuckling as the blond pouted about the switch in control. He pinned Gregory's arms down with a smug grin and tried for a kiss.

Gregory playfully turned his head to the side so Stan hit his cheek instead, fake sulking about not being on the top. Stan took Gregory's face in his hands, causing them both to gaze into each other's eyes. Stan took note of how bright Gregory's hazel was. With the blond's face still in his hands and initiated a kiss, which hit lips that time.

Everything changed. Stan felt a sharp pain slam into the side of his face as he was thrown from Gregory, landing in pain, with a thump, on the hard ground. He gasped in shock, looking up in a blur of panic into the murderous face of Christophe DeLorne. But Christophe wasn't looking at him. He was shaking Stan by the collar but his eyes were somewhere else.

Stan could hear Gregory furiously yelling. "What the hell are you doing? Get off him!"

Christophe's face contorted from one of furious anger to that of confusion. For the first time he looked down at who he was attacking. "Marsh?" he growled in surprise. "Ze fuck..." Christophe let go of Stan's collar, it fell silent for a few seconds. Then as he spoke he sounded like he finally understood. "You weren't attacking Gregory were you?"

"What? No! You're the one attacking me," replied Stan, head still spinning. He sat up, cautiously pushing the suddenly motionless Christophe off him.

"Oh," said Christophe turning to Gregory again, who was standing over them, glowing with rage.

Stan noticed Gary then, staring at Gregory an almost look of awe on his face. He watched as Christophe scrabbled up and ran back over to Gary, putting a barrier between the two blonds. Gary looked hardly awake. Eyes glazed over, reaching out to cling to Christophe tightly, but at the same time almost pulling away from him. It was seriously puzzling Stan, who was also worrying about the increasing anger of Gregory.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" yelled Gregory approaching Christophe. Stan jumped up to his side, very casually holding his arm to stop from moving forward any further than needed. He perceived that space between the two couples was definitely needed.

Christophe grimaced in embarrassment. "I thought someone was attacking you."

"So what if they were?" spat Gregory angrily. "Why would you care?"

Christophe frowned. "Be reasonable, I wouldn't want to see you getting hurt."

"Ha, oh the irony."

Now Christophe's face turned back to anger. "Gregory, will you stop being a beetch. Why do you always want to make trouble?"

"You're the one that attacked my _boyfriend_."

Gary gasped and Christophe looked murderous. "No way. Not a fucking way." He flicked his eyes between Gregory and Stan. "'Im? "But you 'ate each ozer!" And then he saw the way they were standing together. He remembered what he saw when he arrived, he thought someone was trying to take Gregory by force, they obviously weren't. He had noticed that Gregory was starting to look happier; at least when Gregory didn't think he was around. It all made sense... and it all made Christophe angry. "Okay so I attacked your_ boyfriend_," his voice was full of scorn at the last word, "I deedn't hold a knife to his throat zough deed I?"

Gary winced. Gregory batted the comment away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I wasn't going to kill you. I was merely shocking you into silence. I finally got you to _shut up_ for once in your life."

"Shame we can't get you to shut up."

Gregory's hand tightened into a fist. "You really want to try?"

Stan saw that nothing good was going to come from this fight. "Let's all stop and leave shall we? Clearly we can't be around each other."

The motionless and silent Gary burst into tears at that comment. Everyone fell silent and stared at him, faces of confusion, contempt and worry. Christophe gritted his teeth, the fury in his eye that he wanted to punch Stan. And God damn did he want to punch Stan. "You've made him cry."

Stan was shocked. "I've made him cry? You're the one that started this mess."

Christophe pointed at Gregory. "Deed you not get something good out of eet? Wizout me and Gary, you would 'av never gotten Gregory. You think zat he'd 'av looked at you for a second eef eet wasn't for mending a broken 'eart?"

Gregory closed his eyes, speaking calmly. "Perhaps you're right, Christophe. Perhaps without your cruel betrayal I wouldn't be with Stan. I may even still, heaven forbid, have been with you. But it doesn't make what you did all alright, and it doesn't mean that I'm not thankful Stan _is_ in my life. I'm very thankful that Stan is in my life. He's everything you don't have the capacity to be. He makes me feel like a normal person, rather than the partner of a mercenary with a shovel." Gregory sighed; he only wished in these moments that he wasn't just as bad as Christophe. "... Stan's caring."

"Christophe's caring," whispered Gary in a cracked voice.

Gregory glared at Gary, tone cross. "When he wants to be, Mormon. Stan's caring all the time... _You_ missed out." The words were out of Gregory's mouth before he could think of the implications. He felt Stan tense next to him and guilt running through him. Fuck.

"What do you mean he missed out?" demanded Christophe, right on cue. Gregory didn't answer. Christophe turned to Stan. "What does he mean?"

Stan knew that it was best to admit the truth. "I was in love with Gary... but I'm not anymore." Stan pulled Gregory into his chest. "I'm really not anymore."

Gary gazed at him, unable to cope. His body was shaking. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've made such a mess."

Stan's voice dropped into a caring tone. "Gary, why are you crying? There's no need."

"Eet's my fault," muttered Christophe, looking almost remorseful.

Gary clung onto Christophe, turning to look in his eyes. "No it isn't."

"I was ze one who made eet 'appen in ze kitchen."

"I went along with it."

They gazed into each other's eyes, both saddened, both apologetic. It confused Stan but Gregory could see what they were talking about, or at least the cause of the problem, even if he didn't know the problem itself. He scoffed. "The kitchen? I assume you're referring to sex or thereabouts. Damn, Gary, what happened to you? Wouldn't it be easier to just not be Mormon any longer? I know that's what I'd do, it's the best idea. Then you wouldn't have to act like such a crying little wreck wracked with guilt."

Gary's voice was faint. "I don't know."

Christophe ground his teeth together. "Gregory, can you at least _try_ to be nice to Gary?"

Stan cut in. "You really can't talk about being nice to people!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"So you don't care anymore eef Gary's 'urting?"

"Of course I care! But I can't do anything. You've made it very clear that it's your job... and right now I'm more concerned about what you're doing to Gregory!"

"Don't you mean what 'e's doing to us!" yelled Christophe in a rage, glaring at the momentarily silent Brit.

Stan gripped Gregory more tightly. "No! He's not doing anything."

"You've been blinded, Marsh."

"No, you've been blinded. You fucked up Frenchman."

"WOULD EVERYONE PLEASE JUST STOP!" screamed Gary, shoving Christophe away from him and stunning the group into silence. He felt their eyes on him and unable to take the attention or the strain fell to the floor in more tears. All Christophe saw at that moment was Gary and the anger momentarily melted out of him as bent down to the Mormon's aid.

Thunder cracked, and with a flash of light, the only mutual person left appeared, grinning devilishly and provided the ends to their rather confused conflict. "I heard a Mormon screaming from hell." Damien knew how to pick his lines well. He trailed his eyes over the four, taking in each individual face, weighing up their anger, their involvement in the fight and what they were planning to do next. It was just delicious. "Oh, conflict, drama, anger. Should I come back with some popcorn?"

Stan spoke calmly. "I think it's time we left."

"That's a shame. I'm bored." Damien made eye contact with Gregory and smirked. "And I'm not in the mood to murder any puppies."

Gregory smirked back. He pointed at Christophe and raised his eyebrows at Damien suggestively. "Why not murder a dog instead?" It wasn't entirely a joke...

Stan slowly pulled Gregory towards the path away from where they were all gathered. "Don't put ideas in the antichrist's head," he whispered, half amused half terrified.

Gregory huffed but let himself be pulled away. "He wouldn't. He's too much of a pussy." He deliberately made sure Damien could hear, not clear in his own mind whether he was making a joke, or looking to anger Damien, possibly even goading him into considering it. He heard a chuckle from behind him, showing that Damien was not taking his request seriously. Fine, whatever, he could always do it himself. He wouldn't but just knowing he _could,_ made him feel better.

* * *

When they were on their own, Gregory stopped Stan and pulled him into an apologetic kiss. "I'm sorry I told Gary," he whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay. It's not like I still do."

"You really don't?"

Stan smiled. "No. He's not the one I'm focusing on any longer."

Gregory felt something inside him flip at the insinuation. He already felt calmer just being alone with Stan, able to think more clearly about what had happened. "So, now they know about us."

"Only those two. Do you think they'll tell anyone else? What if my parents find out?"

"So you were planning to keep me as your dirty little secret?" Gregory sighed, dropping his hurt filled eyes to the ground. It was just one thing after another. "Nice going, Stan."

Stan tried to rationalise. "My parents don't even know I'm gay..."

"So let's tell them?" pleaded Gregory. "I just want some normality for a change. Away from this mess that I thought was getting better!"

Stan looked into the blond's eyes and imagined saying no. With that no, came the possibility of losing Gregory, and he realised that was so much worse. "Okay." He squeezed Gregory's hand. "We'll tell them."

Gregory smiled, lacing his fingers into Stan's. His smile turned to one with more wicked qualities, almost reminding Stan of an imp, Gregory's short slightly pointed ears sticking through his hair added to this. "Then can we kill Christophe?"

Stan laughed. "Absolutely. Fuck Christophe."

Gregory's eyes twinkled playfully and he raised his eyebrows. He was remembering at that moment a part of his childhood that had linked him with Stan. Something he was so shocked and appalled about at the time, but now made him laugh. "Right in the ear?"

Stan blushed. "It was never me who said that..."

Gregory laughed. "You didn't seem to have an objection to agreeing."

Stan brushed his hand along Gregory's waist. He smirked. "Well, I _do_ want to fuck Gregory."

Gregory hit Stan playfully. "You better stay away from my ear, Marsh."

* * *

Back by the pond, Damien grinned. "Frenchy, I've been instructed to kill you. Any last words?"

"Knock it off, faggot." Christophe pulled a cigarette out of his top pocket and desperately lit it up, leading the stunned, shaking Gary to a bench. "I'm not een ze mood for your bullshit. Eef you're admitting zat you're on Gregory's side zen fuck off."

"There shouldn't be sides. You need to stop this." Christophe was about to open his mouth to protest but Damien stopped him. "And don't say that it's him and not you. It's both of you. He has a chance of being happy again and you have to let him have that chance."

"I am."

"No, you're not. You're still always there and you can't help getting involved. That's not the first time an argument has happened is it?"

"...Non."

"You've had many since you broke up, in stupid places, like in class or in the lunch queue. You don't even buy lunch! It's ridiculous. You both have to move on and stop acting like this."

"You sound like you are on Gregory's side!" accused Christophe.

"I've heard nothing from you!"

Christophe sighed, deciding to share what was on his mind. He left Gary on the bench and moved closer to Damien, so only he could hear. Gary hardly seemed to notice. "I've never felt as weak as by the desire zat draws me to Gary. I couldn't 'elp myself. And now I want to 'elp Gary. I really want to know what's wrong. Eet's got to be partly to do wiz 'is family finding out but I'm really worried zat eet's something to do wiz me as well. Eet's always me. I know what zey're all thinking. 'Christophe DeLorne, he just can't seem to help 'imself. Loves ze perfect blonds,'" he connected eyes with Damien again, "Loves wrecking ze perfect blonds." He sighed. "Eef zat ees what they say about me then to hell wiz zem, zey obviously don't know me."

He ran his hand through his hair, clearly getting more distressed. "I miss Gregory too. I miss being friends wiz 'im. I 'ate seeing 'im so distressed and angry because of me. I 'ate arguing wiz 'im." Christophe pictured Gregory's face in his mind. "He 'as been looking better recently zough and eet must be down to Marsh." Christophe knew he had no right, but he felt a twinge of jealousy that there was another guy. He'd always hated the thought of anyone else with Gregory; he always had that horrible feeling that Gregory would just get used because of his looks. The blond had a fantastic personality, it needed to be appreciated. He had so much to offer, so clever, so passionate. Christophe sighed, and then some horny guy would come along and ignore all that.

Damien tapped Christophe on the shoulder. "Stan Marsh is a good guy. Gregory will do just fine."

"He always has to have someone to rely on, Damien. And I failed in doing zat. I rely want him to rely on me but he'll never do zat again... not when I've proved myself unreliable." Christophe just wanted to be friends with Gregory again, as much as he acted like that wasn't the case. "Are you saying zat Marsh will do?"

"Marsh will do." Damien walked over to sit next to Gary, tapping the Mormon on the shoulder, bringing him back into the real world. Gary didn't flinch, just continued staring forward. It was concerning to both Christophe and Damien. "So, Gary, your parents found out? How did they take it?"

A smile curled on the Mormon's lips. "Ha, talking to the antichrist, I guess I'll have to add that to the list as well now. God, you really know you've messed up when the antichrist pities you."

"I do not _pity _you. I'm just curious." Damien spat the word pity like it was bile in his mouth.

Gary changed his voice to one of such fake happiness that to someone who didn't know him at that moment, he would have seemed a bitterly cruel and sarcastic. "Oh well in that case I'm feeling just fantastic, Damien! I've just found out one of my best friends was in love with me but never told me, even when I was telling him how desperately in love I was with Christophe, who gave me a blowjob in the kitchen, which my family saw, mentally scarring my little sister. And now my parents think I'm mentally ill, heaven forbid I actually be in my right mind and actually want to engage in sexual activities with a French god-hating male. So yes, I'm just swell. I can't wait to start counselling, I really can't."

Gary's parents had remained calmed when they'd seen the two of them together. Gary knew it wasn't in their nature to get angry but he at least expected some shouting. They did nothing of the sort. His dad told his siblings to go quickly upstairs and then turned away as Gary made himself decent. He asked Christophe to leave and when Gary demanded that he stay, did not look shocked to see his son's defensive and angry attitude. Christophe decided it would be better if he did leave. Gary's dad told him he'd get him some help; that everything would be okay once a psychiatrist cured him. When Gary screamed at him that he wasn't mentally ill but that he was in love, his dad still remained calm but wouldn't listen.

Damien scowled. "Sorry I asked."

"Yeah, well you did, so you got an answer."

Gary saw that he'd even managed to shock Christophe with his attitude. He was hurting. He knew the cause and he also knew the fix. But to fix things he'd have to do something so overly shocking that he felt sick merely at the idea. It was the only thing left to do but it just seemed so crazy. It was the only thing that made sense but it went against everything he'd dedicated his life to. Gary sometimes wished he could be like Gregory, because everything would be easy, he wouldn't feel the same guilt and what he was about to do wouldn't be so hard. It would be easy, because Gregory had said as much, hadn't he?

Gregory knew how to get his head straight on these matters... well then, so could Gary.

* * *

Soon after that day Christophe DeLorne disappeared, without reason.

One day he was there sneaking into the Mormon house, avoiding the parents, comforting Gary, receiving icy stares from Gregory, angry glares from Stan and calculating looks from Damien, then the next he was gone. It was as if he'd suddenly dropped what he was doing and dissolved into thin air. Had he run away? Probably the most likely scenario, yet something about the blood stains on the carpet and his shovel still hanging proudly in his room didn't add up...


	10. It's About Time

_A/N: Well... I've been called some things in your reviews haven't I? Very entertaining, slightly menacing... I think there may have even been a death threat (gosh). Luckily I'm still alive and can therefore bring you this, the penultimate chapter._

* * *

_-Remember when we felt the sun A love like paradise, how hot it burned A threat of distant thunder, the sky was red And when you walked, you always turned every head-  
-Pet Shop Boys-  
-(Domino Dancing)-_

* * *

It was an interesting day. Stan doubted whether having Kyle, Kenny and Cartman in the same room as Gregory was a good idea, but he'd been reassured that if he could change his opinion and get along with the blond then anyone could. And he had after all made quite a remarkable turnaround. Perhaps his increasing optimism had also been due to how incredibly well his parents had taken this news. Both bowled over by the charm Gregory could radiate when needed, they welcomed him with smiles. Towards the end of the night it was almost as if they were pining for Gregory's acceptance, rather than the other way round. It was a complete success.

Gregory was doing very well in managing to interact politely with Stan's friends. In fact, it could even be seen that he was enjoying himself, that Gregory may even be making_ friends_ with them. Cartman wasn't so happy, slouching in one of Stan's living room chairs with a bag of cheesy poofs and muttering something about hippy fags. The very notion of being called a hippy made Gregory laugh, it was about as far from the truth as he was from being straight. Hippies... didn't kill people.

Kenny was reclined on the floor at Cartman's feet, facing Gregory, Stan and Kyle on the sofa. He was enjoying throwing questions at them, completely at ease in learning the truth about Stan and rather impressed at who he was with. He and Gregory had shared a laugh at the expense of how nervous Stan looked. Even Kyle, who for a while had been in a state of shock, was growing more used to the idea. He hadn't posed any questions himself but had listened closely to the answers of Kenny's; things about exactly when and why it started. In answering, Gregory and Stan had been extremely truthful for there was nothing they needed to hide.

"What does Wendy think about this?" posed Kenny. They had gone completely public; their news had even overtaken the mysterious disappearance of Christophe.

Stan grinned. "The look on her face was priceless, dude. She fell over herself when she saw us kiss by the lockers." Stan had not been able to resist the moment when he saw Wendy walking down the corridor. He waited until he made eye contact with her and then grabbed Gregory. Her absolute astonishment and scepticism was very visible; most people were sceptic at first. Though Gregory had scalded Stan later about how cruel he'd been, they had both smirked through that kiss. "We timed it perfectly."

Kenny grinned. "Man, I wish I'd seen that."

Gregory raised his eyebrow. "Us kiss or Wendy's face?"

Kenny continued to grin. "Both." He was kicked in the back by Cartman, probably for getting perverted, but this just spurred him on. He dropped his grin, putting on a straight face like the next question was very serious. "So, Gregory, what's Stan like in bed? Wendy would never tell me."

Stan blushed and mumbled for Kenny to shut up but Gregory laughed. "He's the best I've ever had."

"Really?" asked Kenny in high-pitched shock. Gregory smiled and nodded sincerely. "Damn, Stan, that's impressive." Kenny winked at Gregory. "But that's just because you haven't tasted the McCormick magic."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "And he isn't going to, ever." He didn't really have anything to worry about. Gregory was completely faithful and Kenny was completely straight.

Kenny nodded but winked at the amused looking Gregory. "I'll be over at yours later tonight. Prepare for ecstasy."

A light smile came to Kyle's face. "Stan, I think Kenny's planning on raping Gregory."

Stan just raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Ha, good luck with that, Ken." He wrapped his arm around Gregory. "If you want to take this one on then I'm happy to watch you get your ass kicked."

"I'd rather have my ass fuc-"

"Kenny, enough. Do not finish that sentence," warned Stan.

Kenny reluctantly stopped himself. "Gregory, I still don't understand how Stan here managed to score you, I say this in the straightest way possible... you are gorgeous, like, really fucking gorgeous."

Gregory shot Stan a confused look, one that said, 'is he actually for real?' Stan sighed and nodded. Yes, Kenny really did live his life to talk about sex and attractive people. "Stan's gorgeous," stated Gregory simply.

This proved too much fagginess for Cartman and he finally decided to speak. "So where's that Mormon who used to hang around us? Can't be getting fucked by the British piece of shit, because he's disappeared." The whole atmosphere in the room changed. Stan tensed, automatically squeezing Gregory's hand. The smirk fell from Kenny's face and he fell back slightly against the chair. Kyle looked appalled.

"Shut the hell up, fatass. You can't say that!" yelled Kyle quickly.

"Yeah I can, I don't care. It needs to be said."

"No it-" Kyle stopped mid-sentence as Gregory held up a hand.

Stan looked hastily at Gregory, trying to gauge the boy's reaction. "It's okay, Kyle. It _does _need to be said." Gregory's words were clear and confident but Stan could see worry behind his eyes. Stan knew the distress Gregory had gone through and how it wasn't getting better. His boyfriend was highly intelligent and after a quick break into Christophe's room, they could see that everything was not alright. Gregory would skim over where Christophe was mentioned, and just focus on the other boy. "We can't ignore the fact Gary isn't here. Stan has tried to talk to Gary but can't get through. I even talked to Gary. He won't be around." Gregory turned his head to Cartman and glared. "_I'm_ British, Christophe is French. For the last time, get your fucking facts straight, you arse."

Stan laughed, one of relieved tension for the chance of a subject change. So Gregory had developed a dislike for Eric Cartman as well, it wasn't really a big surprise. No more needed to be said about Gary, there wasn't really much else to say if they wanted to avoid something very time-consuming and complicated.

As the conversation progressed to other reasons why Cartman was an 'arse,' Gregory's phone rang, cutting into Kyle's particularly long rant. He withdrew it from his pocket and looked at the caller I.D, _withheld_. He narrowed his eyes at his phone. In his experience 'withheld' meant it was a telemarketer, a client or his father's office. Since he was expecting the last two he was tempted to avoid the call, but he excused himself from the room and answered. If it was a telemarketer then he was going to be very pissed off.

Gregory didn't often put things down to coincidence but it was the only explanation for which person was on the other end of the phone. The phone line had terrible reception and the crackling made the speech almost inaudible, but he could tell the voice anywhere. "Gregory, I need you. I... need your 'elp."

Of all the reactions he could have had, he burst into tears. Only in being alone could he do that. "Oh Tophe, thank God." The emotion overwhelmed him; he fell against the wall, silently dropping to the floor. Not until that point did he realise how desperately he'd been praying that Christophe was alive, and how with each day that passed he felt more certain that he wasn't. It was an overpowering moment to realise that Christophe wasn't dead _and_ that he still had a chance to put everything right: a worry and thought that had consumed him for the past _month_. He could sense Christophe's urgency that he shouldn't cry and worried that he would be heard by the others, so he tried to contain his tears.

"I will be okay eef you do what I say." His speech sounded forced, like he was reading from a cue... "Leesten very carefully and zees faggots say zey won't keel me." Well perhaps he was editing it a bit. Gregory's composure returned as he listened to what Christophe, or rather Christophe's captors, wanted him to say. As he took his instructions of where to go and the amount of ransom to bring, his mind was formulating another plan, one much different. Those faggots had messed with the wrong people.

When Gregory re-entered the living room he kissed Stan, making his fake apologies for leaving and whispering three very simple words into the Jock's ear.

* * *

Entering the warehouse had been easy. Gregory had located two secret entrances which would have served his purpose nicely. Silencing the men waiting for him had been easy too. He noted how Christophe had not been with the men who wanted the money. Did that mean he'd have got him after the transaction was completed or would they both have ended up dead? Criminals had a notorious tendency to break their promises, luckily Gregory never believed them.

The first guard outside where Christophe was being held was easy enough to take down: a punch, a stumble backwards and a handy window to 'fall through.' The glass in his legs, causing an outpour of blood would leave him immobile for long enough. Gregory slammed his elbow into the second guards face with a satisfying crunch. A second jam to the skull with Gregory's foot ensured that he would not be standing up to fight for a little while... if ever again. He may not have been dead, but he would need some serious attention.

Gregory rarely killed people, hurt them, yes. Left them broken? Yes. Left them begging _for_ death? Sometimes... He tortured people and left them crying for mercy but he didn't give them mercy, he just listened to their screams. He often felt strangely weak at the thought. He wasn't like Gary, but he was damaged as well. He was fucked up and often merciless. He _had_ killed people. Sure, he only killed the bad people but what right did he have to take a life?

The right was that he had to save Tophe. Like fuck he was going to give into blackmail.

He took the keys from the unconscious guard's neck, and after straightening his hair and wiping a speck of blood off his chin, unlocked the room where Christophe was being held. He chuckled at the sight; he saw the boy slouched, handcuffed to one of the walls.

"Well, this looks familiar. Though, last time you weren't wearing a top," he said, making his way quickly to Christophe but still doing so with a controlled grace. He touched the tape on the boy's mouth. "You also weren't gagged." He grinned. "Did they get fed up with your dirty mouth?"

Christophe's eyes were wide with shock and wariness by that point. He mumbled something incomprehensible. Gregory ripped off the tape with one fluid motion. Christophe panted, opening his mouth wide to stretch out the stiffness. He looked Gregory dead in the eyes, a silencing moment of hazel and green. "'Ello zere."

"Idiot," Gregory yelled, punching Christophe on the arm. He continued with the set of keys and unlocked the trapped mercenary. Christophe sighed with relief and rubbed his wrists. "You are a fool." Gregory pulled a cigarette packet out of his jacket pocket, along with a lighter, lighting a single stick up and then replacing the rest. He hadn't started smoking again; he handed it to Christophe who took it with a ravenous look on his face and took an almost orgasmic draw on it. "A real fucking fool."

Christophe blew the smoke out slowly, sighing. "You actually came."

"I said I would."

Christophe threw his arms around Gregory in a tight hug. "You are a wonderful person, mon ami."

Gregory cried out in disgust and shoved Christophe away, which only happened when the mercenary finally allowed it. "Don't you dare fucking touch me," snapped Gregory. "I am not your friend and I'm only saving you because it's not worth the hassle of you dying, okay? So don't think that we're all fine because we're not." He narrowed his eyes, glancing around. He was still on the alert. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"I got captured by zose cocksuckers zat I stole ze gold from. Word got around zat eet 'ad been returned to eet's owners. Zey found me and zey were angry. I was not prepared." Christophe went red in anger. It had tortured him more than anything that he hadn't properly planned out his course when he'd returned the gold a short while before. He hadn't accounted for the fact they had spies. There were other links between the two people, which caused him to be spotted. He failed to notice he'd been followed home. That's why when they came for him, he was not prepared to defend himself; he had been asleep. It all showed how much he'd needed Gregory.

"What gold?"

Christophe frowned. He'd forgotten he had never told Gregory. Digging it up that day in the forest, burying it in the first place... it was all linked to Gary. He had never wanted to mix the two. "Zat's what was een ze box." That fucking box was the reason everything had changed. Though, he wouldn't have done it any differently if he had it to do again. By cheating on Gregory and not ending it appropriately, the blond was able to find comfort in Stan, something that would have never happened if not. Would he have spared Gary some torment if they weren't cheating? Or perhaps without feeling that guilt, Gary would have never stayed with him. Christophe had no idea. It sucked. He took a drag on his cigarette. "Ze box in ze forest."

"Oh, that box." Gregory's face remained stony.

"Zey've been trying to get information out of me about 'ow I could break een to zeir ozer base. Zey want to know zeir design faults. After zey saw zat I would not tell zem, zey've been deciding whether eet would be more satisfying to keel me or make some money from me. Ze greedy beetches zat zey are means zey picked money. So eet was a _golden_ opportunity to contact my rescue, non?"

"What if I hadn't come?"

The question was emotionless but it made Christophe smile. "I knew you would."

Gregory's eyes reflected this knowledge and he nodded. He took hold of Christophe's arm and led him to the door. "We don't have time for all of this right now. I have to get you out of here because I am not prepared to pay their ransom for a French bastard like you. We can't risk the guards waking up."

* * *

They left the warehouse as easily as leaving any other building. Every blackmailer and guard was either dead or close to it as Christophe had made sure the ones who knew where he lived would never spread the information. Sitting on a secluded bench, not too far out-of-town, Christophe breathed in the fresh air again, mixing it with smoke. "Sheet, I've missed a lot of school. My mozer is going to go crazy." He mumbled some French expletives about her under his breath and violently took a drag on his cigarette.

Gregory pulled a face. "I still don't understand your mother. You go missing for a month and on your return she won't care about anything but your schoolwork. She didn't even put out a missing person alert; you could have been _dead_ for all she knew."

Christophe shrugged. "Eet makes what I do easier." He didn't care about his own schoolwork. An education of that sort wasn't really needed for what he would dedicate his life to.

Gregory raised his eyebrows and scoffed; a messed up home life was probably the reason Christophe did what he did in the first place. He sighed as he looked over Christophe: dirty, blood-stained, bruised, a cold glint on the surface of his eyes, but as he looked deeper, a sad one. What had happened to the both of them? They'd turned into such fucked up people with so little control over their emotions in any normal way. If turned off completely they could execute dangerous missions and kill people. If allowed to take over they would run wild, could lead to such irrational behaviour, clearly shown through Christophe's inability to stay away from Gary and Gregory's almost murderous reaction to the cheating.

Christophe sensed Gregory's gloom. He knew what he wanted to say and took the moment of silence. "I never congratulated you about Marsh." He paused to inhale on his cigarette. On the exhale, he continued. "So, congratulations eef you're 'appy wiz 'im zen eet's..." Christophe couldn't finish his sentence. He wanted to say good, great, fantastic but he couldn't find the right word, maybe there wasn't a right word for him to use.

Gregory seemed to understand why he'd stopped mid-sentence. "I'm happy with Stan."

Christophe nodded. "I 'ope he treats you well."

A smile curled on Gregory's lips. "He does."

"Do you think eet will last?"

"I want it to but it's doubtful. He's well aware of some of the things I do but I don't think he understands the extent. I like to keep this side of me separate and in the end that will never work." Gregory sighed; it hurt him but he felt that he and Stan weren't built to last. The foundation was very unsteady; Stan wasn't a killer, he couldn't stomach it. They were both very soon heading in opposite directions. Gregory was not the type to live a normal life. "Who could love this side of me?"

"I deed."

"And look how that ended, Tophe."

An amused smile appeared on Christophe's lips. "Mmmm, you almost keeled me."

Gregory laughed. So it had happened. Sitting with Christophe proved how hearts could heal given time. Maybe Christophe having been captured had put everything into perspective because they both found they were no longer arguing, no longer playing the ridiculous blame game. Gregory would enjoy the time he did have with Stan and how much love and happiness the Jock brought him. He at least had some time for that. And as for Christophe, yes he'd cheated, but it was over. He couldn't deny the care he saw in Christophe's eyes about Gary.

"What about you and Gary, Tophe?"

Christophe's face twisted to distress. "I think I'm going to end eet with Gary, eet's too much of a mess."

Gregory grew angry, not for his own sake but for everyone's sanities. "I knew you'd do this!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Christophe. "You've messed him around, changed him, changed his life, and now you're running away."

He was sure it looked like Christophe was about to cry. If the French boy had the capacity to cry he would have been certain. Christophe's face gave the illusion of tears even if no water ran. "I want to give 'im 'is life back."

Gregory's tone fell softer; he'd expected an irrational reaction. "You're not going to do that by running away. If you truly love him, then show him. Don't run away. Think about _him_."

"I am thinking about 'im."

"No you're not, if you were then you'd be thinking about what you can change to make it all better, not to make it all worse."

"What about 'is family? Zey want me gone."

"Gary's family always preach that they think it's great that other people have their own beliefs. They should apply that to Gary too. If Gary doesn't want to follow the Mormon rules then he shouldn't have to."

Christophe was sceptical. "I think he does."

Gregory smirked. He knew a few things of his own. "Are you sure, because I don't think he has for a while."

"What?"

"Since you've been gone he's gone through stages. He was upset for a while, always crying, never talking. He looked so depressed, no one could do anything. Stan tried but it was no good, he thought you'd run away and left him. I didn't want to point out that it was more likely you were dead, since you hadn't taken your shovel. He didn't know that; he hadn't been able to face your room. I didn't like seeing him like that, I talked to him and he asked me to help him do something. He wanted my strength, my power to stand up for what I thought was right. I did help him. God help me, I don't know why, but I did."

"God 'elps no one," Christophe muttered. But his mind had been changed. He had never wanted to leave Gary, he had been longing for another way. He supposed he just wanted to hear it from someone else too. "You are a good person, Gregory." He briefly patted Gregory on the hand. The blond stiffened but allowed it. "What deed you 'elp 'im wiz?"

"I helped him realise what he wanted and what he didn't."

Christophe was scared to ask what that was.

Gregory could sense it. "I think it's better coming from him. You should see him now."

"Thank you, mon ami. I _will_ do eet now."

Gregory rolled his eyes at Christophe's insistence to call them friends. "I am not your friend." He stood up and kicked Christophe on the side of the leg to illustrate his point, noting that he didn't feel an ounce of bitterness doing so. His feet automatically turned towards Stan's house, "And you should probably take a wash first, you stink." He didn't let Christophe see the smile on his face, nor would he ever let on that the French boy had the ability to make him smile again. Perhaps their friendship wasn't forever broken, perhaps in time they could work up a trust again. So like everything else in Gregory's life it relied on time.

And right then, it was time to go see his boyfriend and make love; a very good use of it indeed.


	11. It's Not a Sin

_A/N: Forgive me for my absence. I never intended for you to wait this long!_

* * *

_-So I look back upon my life, forever with a sense of shame, I've always been the one to blame. For everything I long to do, no matter when or where or who, has one thing in common, too, it's a sin -  
-Pet Shop Boys-_

* * *

Christophe knew as soon as Gregory left him on that bench that he was going to spare no time in seeing Gary. If not face-to-face, then he just wanted a small glimpse: something to keep him going. He needed an incentive to get washed and see to his injuries (nothing serious, just some cuts and bruises). He had to pass Gary's house to get back to his so there was no hope in avoiding it. He was very careful about not getting spotted, though the streets were empty. Gary ought to see him before anyone else did, even his mother. He hoped she wouldn't be home because he didn't want to see her, get a lecture about disappearing, curse God for it being all his fault and ultimately be punished.

He walked around the back of the Mormon house and climbed the tree that would, as always, lead him to Gary's bedroom. His sore muscles didn't want to pull him up but he forced them to comply. He was careful to check the room was empty before entering it. Taking his shoes off, he slid the window open - did Gary never lock it? - and crawled onto the bed. After taking a moment to inhale Gary's scent and run his fingers over the soft bed sheets, flooding his brain with memories, he moved towards the door. His footsteps were silent as he crept out of the bedroom.

He stayed low to the ground and spied through the banister. He could see down to the Harrison living room, where a wonderful sight met him. Gary. His fingers moved by his side as if holding a cigarette; he could really do with one to take away the stress. But lighting a cigarette up would get him spotted for sure, and he didn't want that. He selfishly wanted to keep the moment all for himself.

Gary was sat on the floor with his little sister, Amanda, playing with Lego and laughing. Christophe's eyes fell in every direction over him. The boy, so simply wearing a white t-shirt and light jeans, short blond hair framing his pale face, looked perfect. Christophe sighed softly.

"Wow, Gary! How tall are you making that house?" asked Amanda. She sounded in awe of what his was doing: building a house out of green and brown bricks, evenly spaced to create a pattern. He was creating the diagonal roof, making it steadily grow to a single point.

"It's going to be at least the size of the empire state building!" he exclaimed in reply.

Christophe smiled. Had there been someone next to him he would have admitted all his inner feelings; he would have told them how happy it made him to see Gary joking around with his family and to see what a brilliant brother he was. Christophe would have happily joined the both of them; he would have laughed and smiled playing games. Something inside him called out to for simple, innocent pleasures. He loved Gary even more when he was acting like everything Christophe claimed to hate. When he was being optimistic and cheerful, chiming everything in his loud and happy voice, it was perfect.

Christophe had always missed such tender moments as a child. He had no siblings and his mother was more caught up on not going to hell than care about him. His father was dead; he'd never met him. God had taken him only weeks before Christophe was born. God was a bastard like that. One loving memory he did have with his mother was when they still lived in France and she took him to the zoo. He must have been about five. He wasn't tall enough to see into many of the enclosures, so she had held him up, arms protectively around him, keeping him safe. He felt warm and loved. They had stood like that a long time looking into the giraffe enclosure. Giraffes brought people together like that.

Christophe was about to make his way back to Gary's bedroom and leave when he heard Amanda posing another question.

"Gary, are you a Mormon again yet?"

"Amanda, I'm not going to be a Mormon again. I already explained that," replied Gary.

"Why have you abandoned God?"

From his spying place Christophe watched and gasped silently, biting his nails without realising.

"I haven't abandoned God," Gary explained. "I just don't want to be Mormon."

Gary's sister looked worried. "Do you not want to go to heaven?"

Gary smiled softly. His composure kept calm at the questions. "I want to be happy in _this life_, Mandy. And there are lots of different paths to God. There are ones that don't discriminate against me." His sister frowned in confusion. "That means they treat me differently because they don't like everything I do." He searched in the box for any remaining pieces of green or brown Lego for his house.

"Do you mean like what you did with the French boy?"

Christophe tensed; that can't have been any easy question to hear... or to answer.

Gary fit two pieces together and connected them carefully to the top of his structure. "What I did with Christophe is completely natural and nothing to be ashamed off. Now you know we're not to talk about it. You don't need to worry about what went on."

"Mom says that he's a bad influence and mom doesn't say stuff like that unless she really means it."

Christophe growled and then realising his mistake, slapped his hand over his mouth. Gary frowned and turned his head to the source of the noise, but only saw a quick flash as Christophe had already ducked away.

"Gary, what's wrong?" asked Amanda following his line of sight.

Gary stared at the spot Christophe had been in. "I thought I saw..." He sighed, he was being ridiculous. He had to stop hoping and just accept that Christophe had left him. "Never mind." He forced a smile at his sister. "I think I'm done with the house."

Christophe walked back into Gary's bedroom and sat down on the bed, throwing his heads in his hands. He couldn't do this to Gary. Later, he thought. He'd come back later when he'd gotten himself cleaned up. Gregory was right; he really did smell. And he was no use when he wasn't even strong enough to deal with himself. He made sure to straighten the bed sheets again, trying not to leave a trace that he was ever in the room.

* * *

Gregory sighed in contentment and fell against Stan's open arms. "Wonderful." Sweat ran down his forehead, causing some of the hair at the front to slip into tighter curls than usual. His face was glowing and his eyes were alive with passion. He listened with a stillness to Stan's panting, as the breathing slowly turned back to normal. He knew he'd been taking his tension out on his boyfriend, and that it had been particularly intense. It was the day: irregular and explosive. It was Christophe: frustration and forgiveness. And it was Stan: a needed release.

Stan's words drifted down to his ear. "Remember what you said to me earlier, before you rushed away?"

He tensed, pleading that this would not ruin everything. "Yes."

"I love you too."

He twisted his body to see Stan's eyes. They were wide and open as ever, shining with life and happiness. They were perfect eyes and it was a shame that they weren't staring at a perfect person; such a shame that they were staring at a fraud. Gregory's face turned anxious. "I need to tell you why I left."

Stan gripped him tighter, sliding a hand down his back, which caused his heart to leap and a slight pleasure-induced shiver. "Oh?"

"I... I found Christophe. I saved Christophe." Gregory bit his lip and looked away from Stan. "I'm sorry."

Stan turned Gregory's face back to his own. "For what? For being a hero?" He smiled. "Why are you apologising? I'm very proud of you. I'm relieved to hear that he's okay. It makes everything easier."

Stan really meant it. Gregory's heart sunk lower. "It's not what I did, more, how I did it. You're lying with a murderer, Stanley." He pulled his face out of his lover's hands and looked away yet again, burying it instead in his warm chest. "A heartless, calculating, cold murderer. I don't deserve anybody's love because I'm a monster." He felt Stan move beneath him and prepared to be pushed away at any moment.

Stan pressed one of his hands around Gregory's waist and the other he forced under the blond's chest. "I feel a heart and it's beating very fast." Stan rested his face in Gregory's sweet smelling, slightly dishevelled hair. "Is that all for me?"

Gregory sighed. "Mhmm."

"Man, I'm lucky."

"Lucky to love a monster?" Gregory's voice came muffled.

"Gregory, you chained your ex-boyfriend to a bed post, slapped him, punched him and then held a knife to his throat. I knew all this _before_ I became your boyfriend. Obviously I _do not_ see that those types of actions make you a monster, and I am not lying here worrying that they will happen to me. I knew that you'd killed people; you were with Christophe! I also know that those people deserved it. And whether or not what you're doing is legal doesn't bother me. I think you have done a great thing. I think it showed courage and unspeakable loyalty to rescue Christophe. And _that_ is why I love you." Stan traced his finger over Gregory's skin. "Well, there are many other reasons too."

"And what about the fact I've committed crimes?"

Stan laughed. "I think you're forgetting that I've been involved in some pretty warped things in my time."

Gregory twisted around again, propping himself up on Stan's chest. "So let me make sure I've heard this right. You... love me... for me?" A smile began to form on his face. "Every side of me? Not just the surface but what's underneath?"

"Come on, you're smart. You know it's true." Stan played with one of Gregory's curls, coiling it around his finger. He loved it when Gregory's hair went that curly, not necessarily for the gorgeous way it looked but for the passion that lead to the curls, and the entertaining scene Gregory would give trying to sort them out. He loved the emotions around the curls, not just the way they looked. And that was just one of the many examples to the levels he loved Gregory. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt." He raised his eyebrow. "Though it seems that no one would stand a chance against you."

Gregory grinned and drew his face forward, nipping at Stan's lip. "Well, you just might." He licked his lips slyly. "I disagree with one thing you said though, about something I would never do to you." He ran his hand up Stan's chest. "I _am_ going to be tying you to the bedpost at some point."

Stan blushed and his voice quivered at the suggestion. That voice had the ability to make him excited, nervous and flustered all in one musically toned suggestion. "D-do you have anything you could d-do that with... right now?"

Gregory moaned and ran his tongue along Stan's ear. "Why do you even have to ask?" he whispered.

* * *

Christophe had returned to Gary's later that night, through the familiar entrance of the bedroom window. The difference in this later entry was that his legs shook at the thought of finding Gary, asleep and vulnerable, in his bed. Christophe only hoped he'd been having dreamless sleep. At least in dreamless sleep you could forget your worries for a while, even if the time asleep felt much less.

Christophe fell at Gary's feet: a position which could be seen to mirror that of prayer, or grovelling; he'd much sooner be caught grovelling. It wasn't as if he'd never uttered a prayer, but those times were long in the past, when he didn't know any better.

He could feel them twitch beneath him.

Gary shot awake, sitting up in alarm. He stared at Christophe in blankness for a few agonizing seconds, mouth ajar and eyes vacant. "I'm dreaming again," he muttered to himself. "He's not real. I'm dreaming." He closed his eyes and rested his head back on his pillow, turning to the side and attempting to block out the hazy vision. He'd had it all the time, always the same, always replicating his first night. His subconscious tortured him: a reminder of everything he yearned for but thought he could never have again.

"You're not dreaming," whispered Christophe, lowering his crouch so he was kneeling over Gary, their bodies pressed together at strange angles. The smell and feel of the blond were so comforting, so perfect. It was like he was regaining something he so painfully almost couldn't live without. He felt like crying.

"You always say that, and I always believe you, and then I wake up," murmured Gary.

Christophe dropped his head down to Gary's neck and sighed, taking a selfish moment to immerse in the warmth and peace, before the blond truly realised what was going on. "Wake up, Gary," he whispered in the blond's ear and pinched the skin on his forearm lightly.

Gary shot up with a gasp, taking Christophe with him. They both sat facing each other. Gary's face, ghostly pale in the moonlight, was very hard to read. He stared with stunned silence into Christophe's eyes. He pushed the French boy away but kept hold of his t-shirt. Christophe stayed quiet. Gary continued staring into his eyes and then desperately pulled him forward, so close that their noses rubbed lightly.

Christophe spoke softly. "Sorry about zat." He realised it wasn't the most helpful thing he could have said.

Gary raised his hand in what he planned to be a caress but his wrist flicked so swiftly that it turned into a slap. Christophe blinked at the slight pain; it wasn't as hard as a Gregory slap, but was more unexpected. Gary gasped at his own action and pounced on Christophe, pushing him backwards. "You're real?" He reached out his hand cautiously, as if scared that at any moment he would do something wrong, something that would send the scene away from him.

Christophe nodded.

Gary gasped and without another word, pushed himself atop of Christophe's muscular frame, closing their lips together. Christophe tugged him close, arms wrapping affectionately in a way at one point he thought he'd never do again. He closed his eyes and breathed in the moment for all that it was. When Gary withdrew his lips, Christophe saw that he was crying.

Gary sat up so he could view Christophe properly. "I thought... you'd... why are you...?" Gary gulped down tears as his whole body shook. His wide eyes stung with confusion, hurt, and something else underneath them: hope.

"I didn't leave you, Gary. I got taken by some greedy cocksuckers for information. You remember ze box of gold?"

"Of c-course. I'll never forget that day."

"Zen I can simply tell you zat I got found, but don't worry, zey won't find me again."

"Have you got them arrested?"

"Non, zey're dead."

Gary nodded. "Did you..."

"Gregory... and zen I finished off some of ze ones zat could not be allowed to live."

Gary didn't care. He felt they deserved it. Anyone who captured Christophe deserved it. He seemed to share similar views to those of Stan in that sense. "Gregory saved you?"

"Oui, I zink eet's going to be okay wiz 'im. 'E... 'e told me zat you'd spoken to 'im? Zat you'd made a choice?"

Gary nodded again. "I have," he whispered faintly.

Christophe felt his insides twist. Oh God no. He could sense bad news. "Gary, I do not want to lose you, but I do not want to see you 'urting any longer or giving up your religion. Zerefore I will do whatever eet takes to keep you, even if zat means sticking to everything in zat ridiculous Bible and Mormon book. I don't care. I just want to be next to you. So, no more sex, no more sinning, I don't care."

Gary spoke firmly. "No."

In that moment Christophe felt his heart breaking, shattering in the hands of Gary. To him, it was like Gary had shoved a blunt dagger in his chest, rocked it back and forth a while, before impaling his blood soaked heart and ripped it out. So that was how it felt. No wonder Gregory had hated him. Christophe did something he'd never done before: he did nothing.

"No, I'm not going to be with you like that."

Christophe turned his face away from Gary. No, he wasn't going to cry. He definitely wasn't crying.

Gary forced Christophe to look at him again. Holding the French boy's face firmly in his hands and turning it. Christophe tried to avert eye contact but couldn't hold out. Tears ran down his face as he gazed into the shocking light blue of his love's eyes and saw that he was smiling. It hurt him even more. How could Gary rub it in with an innocent smile?

Gary leant forward. "You're being incredibly stupid right now, _mon cher_." He locked his fingers around the back of Christophe's neck and pressed their foreheads together. Christophe allowed it because he was utterly confused and utterly desperate for any physical contact from Gary; it was all he had dreamed for the past month, when he had little to entertain him other than being tortured and threatened, and that wasn't very fun.

"Why do you call me 'mon cher' like you still love me?"

Christophe could feel Gary smiling against his lips. "Because I do still love you."

"But you just said zat you didn't want to be wiz me," he mumbled.

Gary ran his hands through Christophe's hair and chuckled. "I meant that I don't want to stick to what any religion tells me I shouldn't do. They're wrong, Christophe. I still believe in God and I'll still worship him but I feel like trying out another path. I just don't want to think of anything I do as a sin. It sure doesn't feel like a sin, and even if some don't consider it as such, they still completely look down on it."

Christophe smiled. "Zey're all faggots anyway, Gary."

"I still believe in much the Mormon's preach. I still help people and volunteer. I try to think of others as much as I can. I gave Stan and Gregory my blessing. I think they're terrific together." Gary grinned. "But sex with you feels too right for it to be wrong."

Gary rejoiced as Christophe grinned back, his eyes lightening with relief. He ran his thumb down Christophe's face and wiped away a tear that had pooled in the corner of his eye. "You look so adorable right now." One thing with having the love of Christophe DeLorne was that you were able to push it far past when he'd attack other people. Gary knew that if he was anybody else, he'd be unconscious on the floor after that comment. But Christophe just pouted and proved Gary's words to be true. Another thing about being with him was that you couldn't ask too many questions. He hated to feel like he was being interrogated. Gary was to ask no more about the events of the past month that night.

Christophe took Gary's head in his hands, as they took a moment to appreciate being close again. He slowly retracted his hands and pulled his own shirt off, dropping it on the floor. He saw lust reflected in Gary's eyes as the blond did the same. Christophe, bending over Gary, kissed lightly on the chest, but was stopped. Gary instead spun Christophe over, allowing the French boy's head to sink into his pillow. He brushed up the tanned skin of his chest and smiled.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered.

Christophe exhaled. Lying on Gary's bed always gave him unbelievable comfort. He could feel himself sinking deeper and did not know whether he had the power to move. "D'accord," he muttered, sighing deeply.

Gary wanted to relax Christophe; he looked exhausted. For the first time, his physical state was reflecting his mental one. Gary wanted to take care of Christophe. He wanted to repay the favours, show his gratefulness for never being abandoned. It must have taken a lot, Gary thought, to be constantly pushed away and then clung to, to be told that the amazing things they were doing were wrong, when Christophe was opening up his world.

And if Christophe felt guilt, Gary wanted to show him there was no need.

Gary examined Christophe's chest properly. He bit his lip with worry when he saw what a mess it was: covered in harsh marks and red lines. He stroked his finger down one and frowned - not nearly good enough. Dipping his head, he trailed his tongue along the cut slowly, being careful not to cause any more pain.

Christophe sighed - it was soothing.

"Where did you get this one?" whispered Gary.

"Zat one I zhink was for saying something about one of zeir mozers." Christophe pointed to another one. "I got zat one for ze same, different mozer."

Gary giggled and kissed both of them. He wasn't just doing it to satisfy what he considered his slightly twisted craving for the metallic flavour and uneven, coarse, texture, as he ran his tongue along. He always did it to show that he loved every part of Christophe, even the damaged ones... especially the damaged ones. Arguably there wasn't a part of Christophe that wasn't damaged in some physical or mental capacity. And arguably that made Gary love him even more. The blood was an added bonus.

Gary trailed his lips steadily back up to Christophe's neck, trailing his teeth along the sensitive and exposed surface, until he reached the mouth. As he kissed Christophe, he took the boy's hardened member in his hand (for Christophe's excitement at his activities had not gone unnoticed) and stroked down the length of it. Christophe gasped. Gary began to move his hand slowly up and down, breaking the kiss to gaze into his lovers half-open green eyes. As always, so intense.

Gary watched with pleasure as Christophe groaned quietly beneath him. He was unravelling; it was so rarely seen that Gary was hypnotised. Christophe's heavy eyes, set around dark circles of tiredness and stress, finally fell closed in the peace of the moment as Gary could observe the bliss running through him. Christophe's mouth relaxed open slightly, allowing sighs and groans to occasionally escape as Gary continued pumping. Was this open mouth a sign of his bliss? Or was it an invitation for a kiss?

Gary took is as both, grinning and leaning forward. His lips made contact with Christophe and melted in. He felt as Christophe sighed into his mouth that he was sharing in the bliss. He was replacing the stress and the worry. Replacing worried thoughts and panicked moments. Replacing all these things with a pure and simple expression of love. He pulled his lips away from Christophe's and back up so he could observe again. Christophe tried to cling on, to grab him and hold their lips together, but after Gary sped up the pace, he had no choice but to whimper and let go.

Christophe had lost all his power. With the pleasure came the peace and with the peace came a complete loss of strength. His head sank further into the pillow.

Gary wanted to freeze the exact moment so that he'd have enough time to take in all the other wonderful features, but he couldn't. Christophe's face was constantly changing, offering new sights. Each pleasured expression needed to be captured and studied. Gary knew that his memory - as good as it was - would never be a high enough quality to do them justice. So he only prayed that he'd have the rest of his life to study the subject.

As Christophe's groans grew louder beneath him, and he realised they were a sign of Christophe approaching his edge, Gary bent forward to kiss him once more, muffling the groans and stopping any chance of family overhearing. He felt a burst of breath and a hard, thrilling, bite on his lip as Christophe came in his hand.

Gary's lips stayed locked with the French boy's as he panted. The kiss, which began forceful, transformed to gentle. Christophe's lips slowed down and Gary's were the ones in control. The blond pulled away and smiled fondly; Christophe was falling asleep. His eyelids were fluttering in an unsuccessful attempt to stay awake. Gary knew he needed not to fight it. He wiped his hand on a castaway tissue from his bedside and then sunk down next to Christophe, stroking his chest.

Christophe grunted; he so desperately wanted to stay awake, just to keep his eyes open and see Gary. But the overwhelming nature of even just the day had taken him. He turned and wrapped his arms around Gary instead and heard his love sigh. He sighed. They were both tired.

They soon drifted into sleep, not the dreamless sleep that Christophe had hoped upon Gary earlier, but a sleep where they dreamed of each other, care, worry and drama free. They were nice dreams, and perhaps not as far from reality as the two may have thought. Christophe smiled in his sleep, dreaming of the first day he'd met Gary, the first words he'd ever heard the blond say, his reply, and how they had had an ever-lasting impression.

_'Hey there! You look tired, could you use some help?'_

_'No, fuck off.'_

He was very thankful that Gary _hadn't_ chosen to fuck off.

* * *

_A/N: _

_I actually don't want stop writing this. Thank you for reading it, peeps!_

_I gave you this last chapter ON MY BIRTHDAY! (Hoorah) __**HAVE SOME CAKE!**__ You know what would be a very loved and treasured present? A final review! :D_

**_Over and out. x_**


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